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*^«. ^/%i Br^DTAr^r I iRRiknY Vol.3. No.48. Mar. 1, 1897. 




TH[ PRODIGAL 



MOORHOUSEs MOODY. SPURGEON 
AITKEN, TALMAGE 

AND OTHERS 




The Bible Institute 

Colportage Association, 

Chicago. 



iimmm 




iHE PRODIGAL 



CHAPTERS BY MOORHOUSE, MOODY, SPURGEON, 
AITKEN, TALMAGE AND OTHERS. 



Dead, and alive again, 
Lost, and Found. 



Chicago: 

THE BIBLE INSTITUTE COLPORTAGE ASSOCIATION 

250 La Salle Avenue. 

Eastern Depot: New York Depot: Canadian Depot: 

East Northfield Mass. 112 Fifth Avenue. 140 Yonge St., Toronto 



^,«r(^ 



10459 



. ' c • ■ 

I • / 7 



Copyrighted 1896, by The Bible Institute Colportage Association. 



The Libk k.v 
OF Cong J- ESS 

WASHINGTON 



CONTENTS. 

— — o 

The Pakable, 5 

Choice Thoughts From Many Minds, .... 7 

The Prodigal Son, 13 

D. L. moody. 

The Prodigal's Losses, 30 

henry moorhouse. 
The Prodigal's Climax, ........ 40 

o. h. spurgeon. 

"He Came to Himself" 56 

w. hay aitken. 

The Prodigal's Eesolve, 80 

t. dewitt talmage. 

The Turning Point, 95 

c. h. spurgeon. 
The King for the Returning Prodigal, . . 113 

T. DEWITT TALMAGE. 

Beautiful Snow, A Poem . 124 

3 



The Bible Institute Colportage Association 

Was founded for the purpose of issuing good sound 
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and cooperation of all Christians are invited to help 
along the work of counteracting the influence of the 
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Send stamped envelope for pamphlets regarding the 
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all at specially reduced prices. 

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Liberal terms. Address, 

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The Bible Institute Colportage Association, 

r Headquarters: 250 La Salle Ave., Chicago 
J Eastern Depot: East Northfield, Mass. 
1 Canadian Depot: 142 Yonge St., Toronto 

I^New York Depot: 112 Fifth Ave., New York 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 

THE PARABLE. 

A certain man had two sons. 

And the younger of them said to his father, " Father, 
give me the portion of goods that falleth to me." 

And he divided unto them his living. 

And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
all together, and took his journey into a far country, and 
there wasted his substance with riotous living. 

And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty 
famine in that land; and he began to be in want. And 
he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; 
and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he 
would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the 
swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. 

And when he came to himself, he said, " How many 
hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to 
spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to 
my father, and will say unto him. Father, I have sinned 
against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy 
to be called thy son : make me as one of thy hired serv- 
ants." 

And he arose, and came to his father. 

But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw 
him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, 

5 



THE PRODIGAL 



and kissed him. 

And the son said unto him, " Father, I have sinned 
against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more wor- 
thy to be called thy son." 

But the father said to his servants, " Bring forth the 
best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his 
hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring hither the fat- 
ted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: For 
this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, 
and is found." 

And they began to be merry. 



CHOICE THOUGHTS FROM MANY 
MINDS. 



A certain man had two sons. And the younger of 

them said to his father: — 
'^ Father^ give me the portion of goods that falleth to 

me.^ 

Such a request showed his discontented state of 
mind. 

Desiring to be one's own master is the beginning 
of all sin. 
And he divided unto them his living. 

The father did not do anything to restrain or 
punish his son. He just left him to sow and then 
to reap. 

The sequel shows that we may be thankful that 
all our prayers are not answered. 
And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
all together, — 

Here we see the prosperous prodigal, for remem- 
ber — he was as much a prodigal the moment he 
turned his back on his father as when later he was 
feeding swine, 
and took his journey — 

A man reaches the depths of ungodliness by stages. 



THE PRODIGAL 



It is a " journey." Some travel more quickly than 
others, but all arrive at the same dark destination, 
into a far country, — 

far from his father, from home restraints, from 
good influences. 

His heart having already gone into the far coun- 
try, he followed. The way is downwards, down hill. 

Homelessness, farness from God, is man's state by 
nature. It is not measured in space, but in the affec- 
tions. 
and there wasted his substance — 

He had a fortune in his hand, not in his head or 
heart. Any fool can squander the former, but not 
the latter. 
with riotous living". 

The story has often been repeated literally. Too 
often when men forsake God, they turn to sensual 
gratification, uncontrolled by thoughts of God and 
directed solely to earthly excitements. 

Riotous living — the deadliest way to exhaust the 
body, debase the mind, destroy the substance, and 
damn the soul. 
And when he had spent all, — 

without gaining any substantial returns. 

Probably in a short time. Sinful pleasure is brief, 
there arose a mighty famine in that land, — 

Such men help to bring about famines, — those who 
are always consuming and wasting, and never pro- 
ducing. 

This famine was the external cause of the i^rodigaPs 
return. God allows human circumstances to hasten 



CHOICE THOUGHTS FROM MANY MINDS 9 

the consequences of sin. Famines and other miseries 
are rdessengers He sends after His wandering chil- 
dren. 

The saddest famine of all is that of the soul. 
and he begfan to be in want. 

He had now begun to realize that the pleasures of 
sin are only for a season. He had got all the world 
could give him, and then found himself in want. 

This is the main iDoint. When the wandering sin- 
ner /ee^s his leant, he must either despair or repent. 
And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that 
country; — 

The young man who sought freedom from a fa*ther's 
control came into abject dependence upon a stranger. 
and he sent him into his fields to feed swine* 

He would not live with his father ; now he was com- 
pelled to live with swine. 

Shame, contempt and distress are wedded to sin, 
and can never be divorced. 

He who will not be a son to the Heavenly Father 
must be a slave to the devil. 

There is no master so cruel as Satan, no yoke so 
heavy as sin. 
And he would fain have filled his belly — 

And even then he would not have satisfied his 
belly- 
with the husks that the swine did eat* 

The swine were better off than the prodigal, because 
husks did nourish them, and they got their fill. 

He sold himself to the devil, and all he got was — 
husks! 



10 THE PRODIGAL 



Sensual pleasures fill, but never satisfy. 

When we see men at fifty, or even sixty, years of 
age, still feverish about some new pleasure, we see a 
soul formed with a cai^acity for high and noble things, 
fit for the banquet-table of God Himself, trying to fill 
its infinite hollowness with husks. 
And no man gfave unto him. 

With all his banquets and rioting, he had not gained 
one true friend. 
And when he came .to himself, — 

A brighter day now began to dawn after the terri- 
ble night. 

He began to realize (1) his present bad lot. 
(2) what it might be. 

After all, there is in every man something better 
than a fool, a spendthrift, a hog=tender. A man's real 
self is never satisfied with sinning and sinking; he 
knows he is fitted for something better and purer. 
he said, ^* How many hired servants of my father's have 
bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hung^er/' 

Perhaps it was only his stomach, then, and not his 
conscience, that urged him homewards. But low as 
this motive would be, it was enough. So long as any 
motive brings you home to God through faith in Christ 
Jesus, it is a blessed one. 

His will took him away; his wants brought him 
back. 
** I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, 
Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, — 

He acknowledged that he was without excuse. He 
had not a word to say about his " failures," his " faults," 



CHOICE THOUGHTS FROM MANY MINDS 11 

his "wild oats," etc. He called it by the right 
name — Sin. 

He showed a proper appreciation of the nature of 
his sin — first, against God; then, against his father. 
^And am no more worthy to be called thy son* Make 
me as one of thy hired servants/' 

He went out as a son. He would be glad to return 
as a servant. 

It is the glory of the Gospel that it is the refuge, 
the last resource, of the broken-hearted. God does not 
' reject the jaded heart. 
And he arose, — 

feeling how low down he was morally. 

Resolve results in action. 

This is where repentance merges info faith. 
and came to his father* 

What did it mean ? There was before him a long and 
weary journey which he (who had been brought up in 
plenty) had to face without means. There was the 
humiliation of the confession of his sin, of the position 
as a servant. But true repentance was willing to face 
all this. 

Departure from God is the essence of all sin; return 
to God is the essence of true repentance. 
But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw 
him, — 

— before he saw his father. Love is far-sighted. The 
eyes of mercy are quicker than the eyes of repentance. 
Even the eye of faith is dim compared with the eye of 
God's love. He sees the returning sinner before the 
sinner sees him. 



12 THE PRODIGAL 



and had compassion^ — 

No depths were too low for the father's love to reach, 
and ran, — 

So God is in a hurry to welcome the returning 
prodigal. 

Slow are the steps of repentance, but swift are the 
feet of forgiveness. 
and fell on his neck, and kissed him. 

He did not delay a moment, for though he was out 
of breath, he was not out of love. 

The Scotch call this '-'The Parable of the Wonder- 
ful Father." There are many such sons, but not al- 
ways such a father. 
And the son said unto him, ^'Father, — 

the most obvious sign of his repentance was recog- 
nizing his father as father. 
^' I have sinned agfainst heaven, and in thy sight, and am 

no more worthy to he called thy son/' 
But the father said to his servants, ''Bringf forth the best 
robe, and put it on him, and put a ringf on his hand, 
and shoes on his feet; and bring hither the fatted calf, 
and kill it; and let us eat and be merry; for this my 
son was dead and is alive again; he was lost, and is found/' 
Heaven keeps holiday when some poor waif comes 
shrinking back to the Father. 
And they began to be merry. 

And we are not told that they ever left off. The 
conversion of a soul is enough to make everlasting joy 
in the hearts of the righteous. 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 

By D. L. MOODY. 

This young man, the prodigal son, started wrong — 
that was the trouble with him. He was like hundreds 
and thousands of young men in our cities to==day who 
have a false idea of life : and when a man has a false idea 
of life, it is very hard for his father or mother or any of 
his friends to do anything with him. 

I do not know where his mother was. Perhaps he 
had sent her to the grave with a broken heart. The 
Lord did not speak of his mother; if she had been living, 
He would have probably referred to her. 

The father is to be censured; we cannot help but 
blame the father. When the son said, " Father, divide, 
and give me my portion," the father should have said: 

" You show a bad spirit. I will let you go without 
your portion." 

A great many fathers make that mistake now. I do 
not think this father could have done a greater unkind- 
ness to the boy than to give him his goods and money, 
and let him go. It showed a contemptible spirit in the 
boy when he came to his father and said: 

" Divide: give me my portion and let me go." 

He wanted to go away from his father's praye::s and 
influence, and get into a foreign land where he could go 
on as he pleased, where he could run riot and plunge in- 

13 



14 THE PRODIGAL 



to all kinds of sin, and where there was no restraint. 
And that indulgent father gratified his wish, and di- 
vided his goods with him. I have two sons, and if either 
should ask me for a portion I'd say: 

*' Go and earn it by the sweat of your brow." 

Of all classes I most pity rich men's sons with nothing 
to do. It's a good deal better for your sons to earn wealth 
for themselves than for you to earn it for them. I have 
more respect for a rich man's son who makes anything 
of himself than for a poor man's son. Self=made men are 
the only men good for anything. The rich men's sons 
are si)oilt. Their fathers do everything, even their 
thinking, for them. They are subject to all kinds of 
temptations, which poor men's sons never know. 

Perhaps this young man did not get on well with his 
elder brother. Or perhaps he grew restive under home 
restraints. We are not told the reason why he left home, 
but not many days after he had received his portion, he • 
went around to his old companions and bade them all J 
good=bye, and went off to a foreign country, perhaps to ' 
Egypt. He started out with a false idea of life; 
nine4enths of the young men do. He thought he'd find 
better friends and have a better time in that far off 
country. 

How Satan blinds men! With some it is money; with 
others pleasure; with all of us, it is selfishness under one 
form or another. 

He started off, holding his head very high that morn- 
iing. He was full of pride and conceit, and he had very 
ilofty ideas. If anyone had told him what he was coming 
to, he would have laughed in scorn^ But mind you. 



THE PRODIGAL SON IS 

once a man starts on the downward track, he will sink 
lower and lower, unless by the grace of God he turns 
from sin to righteousness. The first lie, the first drink, 
the first petty theft, is often 

A CEISIS IN A man's LIFE. 

I suppose, like young men of to=day, he went to 
Memphis or some other large city. He put up at the 
best hotel, he smoked the best cigars, he drank none 
but the best wines and drove none but the fastest 
horses. He did not mix with the common men. He 
gathered a number of choice friends around him, and 
thought he was having a high time. The very first 
thing we hear of him is, he is in bad company. He be- 
gan to waste his substance in riotous living. I never 
knew a young man who treated his father unkindly who 
would not go off into bad company. We hear of him 
going on in all kinds of vice. He devoured his living 
with harlots. He was guilty of adultery — the shortest, 
quickest, surest road to ruin. If they had theaters in 
those days, (and I do not doubt but they had), he 
would be in the theater every night in the week. We 
should find him in the billiard^hall and the drinking- 
saloon. We should find him in the ways of those whose 
feet take hold on hell. He was a popular young man; 
he had plenty of money, and his money was popular. 
He was a grand companion for the young men in that 
far country; they liked his society. 

If you had asked him to come to a religious meeting, 
he would have been indignant. What need had he of a 
Savior? What did he care for his father's Bible or his 
mother's prayers? 



le THE PRODIGAL 



That first year lie was very indeijendcnt. He had a 
great many admirers fluttering around him. His friends 
were the leading young men — the upper ten. He 
moved in very high circles. The aristocratic mothers 
were foolish enough to introduce their daughters to him; 
they were very glad to make his acquaintance. 

That was the first year, but he cleared it all out in 
five years or less. Perhaps his portion was $100,000. 
It does not take long for a young man to go to ruin 
when he gets among harlots and wild young fellows. It 
takes one generation to accumulate, Ihe next spends it. 

Where are his friends now? He had plenty to gamble 
with him at first. They liked to take a helping hand in 
spending his money; but gradually he hasn't money 
enough to pay the tailor. He is getting a little shabby 
in appearance. His clothes are not so good as they 
were. He once had a good wardrobe, but now he goes 
to the ]pawn=shop, and he pawns his overcoat for strong 
drink; and one thing after another soon goes. He 
might have had some gift which his mother gave him 
when she was dying, and at last that goes; and yet he 
does not come to himself. When he first came to 
Memphis he used to get drunk at least once a week. 
Now you see him hanging around the pawn-broker's. 
He asks one of his former friends to lend him a dollar. 
They were ready enough to strijD him of his money; now 
they point him out as the biggest fool in all Memphis. 

" He came here five years ago," one of them says, 
" with $100,000, and he's gone through the whole of it. 
He actually asked me to lend him a dollar. I wouldn't 
lend him a cent." 



THE PRODIGAL SON 17 

His friends were the friends of his circumstances. 
Give me the friend who is my friend for what I am, not 
for what I've got. I want a friend who will stand by 
me in the time of calamity. 

He pawns his ring, the sign of sonship, and his 
clothes. And then a mighty famine strikes the land. 
There is always a famine in the devil's territory. A 
mighty famine struck the land, and this young man be- 
gan to feel the want of food. 

The fact is, it doesn't take long to drain the cup of 
pleasure dry. There may be pleasure in sin, but it does 
not last. It ends in want and misery every time. Satan 
never gives enduring satisfaction. When this young 
man got home they " began to be merry, " but now in 
the far county he begins to be in want. And '' no man 
gave unto him." Generosity is a virtue which does not 
flourish in that kind of soil. 

ONE REDEEMING POINT. 

He had one redeeming point — he would not beg or 
steal. God have mercy on a young man in perfect 
health who will beg! He is not far from being a thief. 

The j)rodigal looked round for a job. Would any 
bank president have him for cashier? "I couldn't 
trust him," they would say. Yfould any leading mer- 
chant take him? "I couldn't," they would answer: "he 
has lost his character." 

" Look at his hands," one said: '' he can't earn any- 
thing at manual labor." 

He went round for a number of days, and at last was 
hired to look after swine. He was so hungry that he 
would have eaten husks if he could have got them. No 



18 THE PRODIGAL 



man gave him even husks. This wealthy man's son, 
who was brought up amid good influences and surround- 
ings, is now living in that foreign country like a man 
who had never seen a decent home. 

Now, just for a moment think what that man lost 
in all these years. 

He lost his home; he had no home. His friends, 
when he had money, might have invited him around to 
their homes; but it was not home for him. There is not 
a prodigal upon the face of the earth but has lost his 
home. You may live in a gilded palace; but if God is 
not there, it is not home. If your conscience is lashing 
you, it is not home. 

He lost his food. His father's table did not go to 
that country. He would have fed on the husks that 
the swine did eat. This world cannot satisfy the soul. 

Then he lost his testimony. I can imagine that some 
of the young men of that country saw him among the 
swine, feeding them, and they said: 

'' Look at that poor wretched young man, with no 
shoes on his feet, and with such shabby garments." 

They looked at him and called him a beggar, and 
pointed the finger of scorn at him. 

He said: "You need not call me a beggar. My 
father is a wealthy man." 

" Your father a wealthy man? " 

" Yes." 

"You look like a wealthy man's son!" 

Not a man believed him when he said he was a 
wealthy man's son. His testimony was gone. So when 
a man goes into the service of the devil, he sinks lower 



I 



THE PRODIGAL SON 19 

and lower; and it is not long before every one loses 
confidence in him. One sin leads on to another. His 
testimony is gone. 
He lost his health, his good name, his time. 
And he did not gain much to compensate him for 
these losses. He got a good many things, however. 
He got the jeers of his former companions. He got 
rags and filth. He got a gnawing hunger, and a 
depraved appetite. He got a sad experience of the un- 
satisfying nature of worldly pleasures. 
But there is 

ONE THING HE DID NOT LOSE, 

and if there is a poor backslider reading this, there is 
one thing you have not lost. That young man never 
lost his father^ s love. 

I can imagine one of his father's neighbors met him 
in that place, and said to him: 

" My boy, I have just come from your home. Your 
father wants you to return." 

I can imagine the young man said: "Did my father 
speak of me? I thought he had forgotten me." 

" Why," says the man, "he thinks of nothing else. 
He thinks of you day and night. Do you think he has 
forgotten you? No, never. He cannot forget you. 
He loves you too well for that." 

One morning he got his work done sooner than usual, 
and got to thinking. I wish I could get men to think 
what they are and where they are going. His mind 
went back over his past conduct, and he saw nothing 
but sin. In the future he saw nothing but death and 
judgment. In his childhood days he remembers how 



20 THE PRODIGAL 



he used to play with his brother, and how the old birch 
tree in front of the house looked. He remembers his 
mother used to bend over him at ni^lit and teach him 
some little prayer, such as, " Now I lay me down to 
sleep." He remembered the morning when he left 
home. 

" Father tried to pray for me," he meditated, " but he 
couldn't finish his prayer. His grip was like a vice as 
he said, ' It's just breaking my heart to have you go. 
Kemember, I shall always be glad to see you back. I 
hope you won't be away long.' 

" If I stay here much longer, I'll starve to death, and 
they will bury me like a pauper. Here I am, perishing 
with hunger, while my father's hired servants have 
bread enough and to spare. I will arise and go to my 
father, and say to him, ' Father, I have sinned against 
heaven and before Thee.' " 

ONE or THE GREATEST BATTLES EVER FOUGHT 

was being fought out then. Everything holy and 
heavenly was beckoning him home. The powers of 
darkness were trying to keep him from returning. 

" You go back and they'll all laugh at you. What'il 
they say? " said the devil. 

No doubt there was an angel hovering over him, 
w^atching for the decision, and when he arose and said, 
" I will arise," the angel bore it on high. 

"Make another crown. Get another robe ready. 
There's another sinner coming! " 

That " I will" echoed and re-echoed, and there was 
joy in the presence of the angels. He is saved already. 



THE PRODIGAL SON 21 

His heart has got home akeady. The battle with pride 
and sill is over. 

As the Scripture puts it, " He came to himself." It 
is a grand thing to see a man coming - to himself. 
When he began to come to himself, then it was there 
was hope for him. It teaches us clearly that all these 
years he had been out of his mind. Very likely he 
thought Christians were out of their minds. There is 
not a drunkard, harlot, thief, or gambler, but thinks 
Christians are mad; and they call us fanatics. But Sol- 
omon says: "Madness is in their heart while they live, 
and after that they go to the dead." 

When he came to himself, he said: "I will perish 
here. I will arise and go to my father." That was the 
turning point in that young man's life. There is always 
hope for a man when he begins to think. I wish you 
would bear in mind that if you are willing to own your 
sin, and own that you have wandered from God, God is 
willing to receive you. The very moment you are will- 
ing to come, that moment God is willing and ready to 
receive you. He delights in forgiveness. I do not 
care how vile you have been, if you are willing to come 
back, God is willing and ready to receive you. 

It did not take long, after his mind was made up, to 
go. He had no friends to visit and bid good-bye to. 
There was no one to love and pity him. He asked his 
employer to settle up— he didn't get much. He came 
just as he was — poor, ragged, dirty; he did not wait to 
get fixed up. 

I see him as he starts for home. He has a hard 



22 THE PRODIGAL 



journey. He is almost starved. Day after day he 
travels on. He has no fear of thieves, for he has squan- 
dered all he had. 

If a man had seen him going along the road when he 
started for home, he'd have said: 

" There goes a tramp." 

A tramp? He is an heir of glory, going to sit on 
the throne with Christ. He is already in the king- 
dom. If a man is not saved, it is not because he canU, 
but because he iDOii't. The only obstacles in the way of 
receiving pardon for sins are those you make yourself. 

One day he gets to the top of a hill — and then he's 
across the line. There is a strange feeling about get- 
ting back into your own country, under the old flag; 
there's an excitement about it. He gazed at a blue hill 
in the distance, and said to himself, 

" When I get on that hill I can see how the old 
house looks." 

When he arrives on that hill-top, how his eyes feast 
on the homestead! 

Now let us take a look into the home. It is the hour 
of family worship. The old father reads a psalm, one 
of the psalms of David, the 91st or the 46th, perhaps. 
After reading, they sing, and the old man prays. He 
prays for the servants, the elder brother, the neighbors, 
then his voice begins to falter a little, and he prays: 

" God bring home my wandering boy!" 

That cry had gone up from that altar every evening 
for five years. 

"Who's that your master was praying for?" you ask 
the servants. 



THE PRODIGAL SON 23 

" His youngest son." 

" Why, I've lived here for three years, and never 
knew he had one. What kind of a young man is 
he?" 

"A good-for-nothing, miserable wretch," they answer. 

Then you enquire of the elder son. 

"Yes, sir, I've a younger brother. He's off down at 
Memphis." 

" Is he in business down there? " 

" No, sir, my father gave him his fortune, and he 
spent it all with harlots and riotous living." 

You notice it's the elder brother that says this. Not 
a bit will the father tell. Go and sit down by that gray- 
haired father and ask him, 

" Would you forgive him? " 

"Forgive him? Why, there's been nothing in my 
heart but love for him all along. Let him come home, 
and you'll see how gladly I'll restore him." 

The father, in the parable, represents your God and 
mine. His heart is full of love for us, no matter how 
we turn our back on Him, and disobey. He so loved 
us that He sent His only begotten Son to die for us. 

One day the old father is on the flat roof on the top 
of the house. It is about three o'clock in the after- 
noon. The old man is praying with his face turned to- 
wards Jerusalem. He takes his usual look along the 
highway, and sees a stranger in the distance. He holds 
up his hands to keep the sun out of his eyes, and looks. 
Love makes the eyesight very keen. He cannot recog- 
nize his boy by his rags, but he knows his son's very 
gait. 



24 THE PRODIGAL 



"That's my boy! That's my son! He's coming 
back!" he exclaims. 

Downstairs he rushes, his gray hair flying in the 
wind; he has never been seen to go so fast for years. 
He leaps into the highway. The servants wonder to see 
him rushing to meet a stranger. God never allows us to 
get ahead of Him. 

" Father, I've sinned," begins the prodigal. But the 
old man won't hear a word. 

" Run quickly and get the best robe. You run and 
bring a new ring. You fetch the best pair of 
shoes. You go and kill the fatted calf. Send for the 
musicians. We are going to have music, and rejoice." 

The whole house is in excitement. 

What a picture that is of the love of God, and His joy 
over the return of a sinner! Come, reader, are you not 
ashamed to stay aw^ay from such a Father? Will you 
not say "I will" this moment, and turn your face 
homewards? God is waiting to welcome you. 

I see the old man weeping tears of joy. In that 
home there is gladness. The boy is eating that sump- 
tuous meal; he has not had as good a meal for many a 
year. It seems almost too good to be true. Picture the 
scene. While he is there he begins to weep; and his 
old father, who is weepmg for joy, looks over to him 
and says: 

" What are you weeping for?" 

The boy says: "Well, father, I was thinking it would 
be an awful thing if I should leave you again, and g(j 
into a foreign country." 

But if you sit down at God's feast, you wil) not want 



THE PRODIGAL SON 25 

to go back into the devil's country again. He go back? 
He will never go back to tlie swine and the husks. 

Oh, my friends, come home! God wants you, His 
heart is aching for you. I do not care what your past 
life has been. Upon the authority of God's Word I 
proclaim salvation to every sinner. " This man receiv- 
eth sinners, and eateth with them." Every sinner has 
a false idea of God; he thinks God is not ready and 
willing to forgive him. He says it is not justice. But 
God wants to deal in mercy. If the old father had 
dealt in justice, he would have barred the door and said 
to his son: 

" You cannot come into my house." 

That is not w^hat fathers are doing. Their doors are 
not barred against their own children. Their doors are 
wide open, and they bid you come home. There is no 
father on earth who has as much love in his heart as 
God has for you. You may be black as hell; yet God 
stands ready and willing to receive you to His bosom, 
and to forgive you freely. 

When I was preaching once in Philadelphia, a poor, 
fallen woman came into the meeting. The sermon did 
not touch her until I got to that part where I said: 
"There is no sinner so vile but Jesus will receive 
that one"; and it went like an arrow to her soul. She 
came to the inquiry room, and made Mp her mind never 
to go back. In the course of forty^eight hours she 
found her way to the feet of Jesus. Two Christian 
ladies went to see her mother; and when they came to 
her house, she was not going to let them in. She was 
sick and did not want to receive any callers; but the 



26 THE PRODIGAL 



thought came to her that perhaps they were bringing 
good news from her husband. When these two angels 
of light came in, they said they came to talk about her 
daughter, Mary. The woman said: 

"My daughter? have you brought news of my child? 
Where is she? Oh, how my heart has ached for fifteen 
long years. Why did you not bring her with you?" 

They said: " We did not know that you would receive 
her." 

She said: "Oh, how my heart has been aching! 
Won't you bring her back to=morrow morning?" 

If the mother received that child, do you tell me God 
would not receive her? There is not a sinner on earth 
whom God will not receive if he repents. 

William Dawson, the celebrated Yorkshire farmer, 
once said that there was no man so far gone in London 
that Christ would not receive him. A young lady called 
on him and said: 

" I heard you say that there was no man so far gone 
in London that Christ would not receive him. Did you 
mean it?" 

" Yes," he said. 

" Well," she said, " I have found a man who says he 
is so bad that the Lord will not have anything to do 
with him. Will you go and see him?" 

He said: " I will be glad to go." 

She took him to a brick building in a narrow street; 
and he was in the fifth story. She said: 

" You had better go in alone." 

He went in and found a young man lying in the gar- 
ret, on an old straw bed. He was very sick. Mr. Daw- 



THE PRODIGAL SON 27 

son whispered in his ear some kind words, and wanted 
to call his friends. 

The dying man said: "You are mistaken in the per- 
son." 

"Why so? " said Mr. Dawson. 

"I have no friends on earth," said the dying man. 

It is hard indeed, for a man to serve the devil, and 
come down to no friends. 

"Well," said he, " you have a friend in Christ"; and 
he told him how Jesus loved and pitied him, and 
would save him. He read different portions of Scrip- 
ture, and prayed with the man. After praying with 
him a long time, the light of the gospel began to break 
into his dark soul, and his heart went out towards those 
whom he had injured. He said: 

"If my father would only forgive me, I could die 
happy." 

"Who is your father?" 

He told him, and Mr. Dawson said, " I will go and 
see him." 

"No," the sick man said; " he has cast me off." 

But William Dawson knew he would receive him, so 
he got his father's address and said: 

"I will go." 

He came to the west end of London, and rang the bell 
of the house where the father lived. A servant in livery 
came to the door, and Mr. Dawson asked if his master 
was in. The servant showed him in, and told him to 
wait a few minutes. Presently the merchant came in. 
Mr. Dawson said to him : 

" You have a son by the name of Joseph." 



28 THE PRODIGAL 



The merchant said: "No sir; if you come to talk to me 
about that worthless vagabond, you shall leave the 
house. I have disinherited him." . 

Mr. Dawson said: " He will not be your boy by night; 
but he will be as long as he lives." 

The man said, " Is my boy sick? " 

"Yes, he is dying. I do not ask you to help bury 
him, I will attend to that; but he wants you to forgive 
him, and then he will die in peace." 

The tears trickled down the father's cheeks. Said 
he: " Does Joseph want me to forgive him? I would 
have forgiven him long ago if I had known that." 

In a few minutes he was in a carriage, and they went 
to the house where the boy was; and as they ascended 
the filthy stairs, he said: 

"Did you find my boy here? I would have taken 
him to my heart if I had known this." 

The boy cried, when his father came in: "Can you 
forgive me all my past sins? " 

The father bent over him, and kissed him, and said: 
" I would have forgiven you long ago." And he added: 
" Let my servant put you in my carriage." 

The dying man said: " I am too sick — I can die happy 
now. I think God, for Christ's sake, has forgiven me.'" 

The iDrodigal told the father of the Savior's love; and 
then, his head lying upon his father's bosom, he 
breathed his last, and rose to heaven. 

If your father or mother forsake you, the Lord Jesus 
Christ will not. Oh, press into the kingdom of lieaven 
now. Come home! 

Mr. Spurgeon once summed up the things his audi- 



THE PRODIGAL SON 29 

ence had got over. Some, lie said, had got over the 
prayers of faithful Sabbath^school teachers who used to 
weex3 over them and come to the house and talk to them. 
They resisted all their entreaties, and got over their in- 
fluence. And some had got over their mother's tears 
and prayers, and she, perhaps, sleeps in the grave 
to-day. Some had got over the tears and prayers of 
their father and of their minister, vvho had prayed with 
them and wept with them, a godly, faithful minister. 
There was a time when his sermons got right hold of 
them, but they have got over them now, and his sermons 
make no impression. Some had been through special 
meetings, and they have made no impression; they have 
not touched them. Still they say they are getting on. 
Well, so they are ; but bear in mind, they are getting on 
as fast as they can to hell, and there is not one man in 
ten thousand who can hope to be saved after he has 
grown so hard-hearted. 

Oh, reader, if you are not already a child of Grod, safe 
bound for the Father's home, or if you are a wandering 
child, off in the far country, say, "I will arise" now! 
Let there be joy in heaven to-day over your return. 



THE PRODIGAL'S LOSSES. 

By HENRY MOORHOUSE. 

The fifteenth chapter of Luke is one which almost 
every one could repeat from memory, and yet it is one 
of those beautiful portions which alw^ays seem to touch 
one's heart and fill one's soul with fresh joy every time 
one reads it. I wish you to look at this sweet chapter 
in connection with the Christian life. We have com- 
monly been accustomed to look at it in connection with 
the state of unsaved sinners, and there is no doubt that 
it may be applied to them. But I wish to draw another 
lesson from it, and apply it to our souls. I think I 
shall be justified in applying it to the Christian, as well 
as to the sinner who has never known the Father's 
house and the Father's love. 

You remember that the people to whom the Lord 
Jesus Christ spoke this beautiful parable were all Jews. 

A WORD FOR BACKSLIDERS. 

The Jews had drifted away from God, and had be- 
come backsliders; and thus I can find a message to 
backsliders from this beautiful chapter. I do not know 
any place w^here the unsaved sinner is spoken of as the 
son of the Father. 

In this story, the Lord Jesus Christ was surrounded 
by the publicans and sinners, while the Pharisees and 
scribes were in the distance, and began to murmur and 

30 



THE PRODIGAUS LOSSES 31 

find fault. You will always find that the Pharisees who 
keep away find fault, but the sinners who come near do 
not find fault at all. The faultfinders said: 

" This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." 

Then He spake this parable unto them, 

"A certain man had two sons: and the younger of them 
said to his father. Father, give me the portion of goods 
that falleth to me. 

"And he divided unto them his living. And not many 
days after, the younger son gathered all together, and 
took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his 
substance with riotous living. And when he had spent 
all, there arose a mighty famine in that land: and he be- 
gan to be in want." 

Now notice what kind of a famine it was. It was not 
a famine of husks — there were plenty of those. It was 
not a famine of swine's flesh — :there was plenty of that. 
But there was a famine of that which was clean, and fit 
for a Jew to eat. There is never a famine of husks; the 
devil has not had a famine for the last nineteen hundred 
years. There are always plenty of husks to feed hungry 
swine, and there are always plenty of hungry swine to 
eat them. Go where you will, you will always find 
Ijlenty of devil's food for hungry souls; but it will not 
satisfy. 

Now the story goes on to say, that when the prodigal 
had wasted his substance, he went and joined himself to 
a citizen of that country, and asked him for something 
to do; and I do not for one moment believe that the cit- 
izen had the least pity for him. He saw the young man 
was a Jew, and he said: 



32 THE PRODIGAL 



"The only thing you are fit for is to go and feed my 
swine." 

That was neither pity nor sympathy; it was a piece of 
mockery. Nothing pleases sinners so much as to see a 
child of God brought down to their level.- 

Now wdiat did the prodigal lose? There was some- 
thing that he could not lose, but there was much that he 
could. 

In the first place, he could lose his home. His father's 
home was not closed against him, but in that far coun- 
try, he had 

NO HOME. 

Some would say, " I would not be a prodigal. It must 
be something very terrible to disgrace my church, to give 
the devil my service in the eyes of the world, to get in- 
toxicated and go reeling about the streets." 

Yes, that is getting into the far country; but, beloved 
friend, I believe it is possible to be in the "far country," 
and, at the same time, be in attendance upon God's house 
and joining in its services. I believe it is possible to be 
in the "far country" while reading the blessed Book; to 
be in the " far country " with the wine and bread, which 
are emblems of the broken body of my Savior, in my 
hand. Nay, more; I believe it is possible to be in the 
"far country" while teaching about the prodigal son. 
Whenever we get our affections fixed upon earth, that is 
the "far country." The farthest from heaven that the 
Christian can get is the world; and, .while we are living 
for the world, our heart is in the " far country." Beloved 
friend, we need not give up our seat in church, we need 
not give up church membership; only let our heart be 



THE PRODIGAUS LOSSES 33 

awaj^ from Christ, and centered upon earth, and we are 
in the " far country." 

Now see what he loses. Home! That sweet word! 
"Home! sweet home! there's no place like home!" 

It is only those who have been in the far country who 
know what it is to love home. 

MEMOEIES OF HOME. 

I remember when I was in California with a friend. 
We had come from Sacramento, and had been in the cars 
four hours. We had a short time to wait, and got out and 
walked about. We were enchanted with the beautiful 
scenery. The mountain tops, covered with snow, looked 
like masses of silver. My friend said he had been to 
Switzerland, and had seen nothing like it. There was a 
lake, and in the sunlight it looked like a sea of gold. We 
were admiring the scenery, when the birds began to war- 
ble, and a little blackbird began to sing. Before we knew 
what we were doing, we had forgotten the scenery, and 
tears were streaming down our faces. It was the first 
blackbird that we had heard sing in that country, and it 
seemed to be like the song of old England. Ah! "there's 
no place like home." The scenery may be grand, beau- 
tiful and glorious, but there is no place like home. 

So, in the far country, the prodigal had lost his home. 
There was no familiar face to welcome him, and no kind 
voice to cheer him. 

He had lost his home, and he had lost something else 
too; he had lost 

HIS FOOD. 

He had the husks, but they did not satisfy him. He lost 
his food; and I think the Church of God has lost her 



34 THE PRODIGAL 



food, and that is the cause of the terrible state of weak- 
ness the Church is in. You cannot have food away fron] 
your Father's house. You must come back home; yot 
will never be satisfied in the far country. What was th' 
reason that the men of God had such power in the an- 
cient days? Because they ate the bread that God sen 
them. Turn to the fourteenth chapter of Genesis, am 
you will find an illustration of what I mean. What di( 
Abram say? He would not take so much as a thread o; 
a shoe-latchet. Sodom was a wealthy city, but Abran 
would have none of her goods, and would only take the 
piece of bread and drink of wine from the priest of th( 
Most High God. Why? He knew that the servant o 
the Most High God should be independent of Sodom 
and when the Church of God finds out that, and acts up- 
on it, it will be a grand thing. 

But, though he refused the goods of Sodom, Abram 
took the bread and drank the wine that typified Christ; 
and those who take that food, will not want to get rich . 
with the goods of Sodom. 

Turn now to the eleventh chapter of Numbers, and 
there you will find another illustration: 

"And the mixed multitude that was amongst them fell 
a=lusting: and the children of Israel also wept again, and 
said, Who shall give us flesh to eat?" 

The "mixed multitude"; they were those who came 
up out of Egypt with the children of Israel, but were ] 
not under the shelter of the blood of the Lamb. They 
were a hindrance to God's peojile. They said: 

" We remember the fish which we did eat in Egypt 



THE PRODIGAUS LOSSES 35 

freely, the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, 
and the onions, and the garlick; but now there is noth- 
ing at all but this manna." 

What was the manna? It was the God-given bread, 
which they began to tire of, remembering the fish, mel- 
ons, cucumbers, onions, leeks and garlick. They remem- 
bered these things, but forgot the bondage, the groaning, 
the tears, the tale of bricks they had to make, and the 
whip of the taskmasters. The devil will readily enough 
remind you of the leeks, onions and garlick, but not of 
the bondage. The devil will tell you of anything except 
the true manna, which is Christ, and you cannot be fed 
unless fed by Him. 

LOST WORK AND TESTIMONY. 

The prodigal lost his food, but that was not all. He 
lost his work. He could not take care of his father's 
sheep while in the far country. His father's lambs 
might need tending, but he could not nurse them there; 
and his father's harvest might need gathering, but he 
could not do it there. 

Beloved, you cannot work from your Father's home, 
for He will not ask any child to work until He has first 
fed him; we can neither feed nor work in the far 
country. 

He had lost something else, also, and that was his 
testimony. He had a ragged coat on his back, and not 
a cent in his pocket, and who would believe him if he 
talked about his father? He might say his father was 
the richest man in Judea ; but, with his ragged coat and 
penniless pocket, they would only laugh at him in the 



I 



36 THE PRODIGAL 



far countiy, and would not believe his testimony. Why 
do people not believe our testimony? Because we talk 
of a rich father, and yet go about with a ragged coat 
we talk of joy, and look wretched; we talk of i)eace, an(B 
look full of trouble. That is why our testimony is not 
believed. 

Then this is what the prodigal lost: his home, his 
food, his w^ork and his testimony. But he did not lose 
all. It is one thing to go to heaven, and it is another 
to waste the only life that God ever gave for His 
service. What if the Mighty God of heaven were to 
summon around Him all the angels in glory, and He 
were to say: 

" There is a mission going on in yonder town, and 
there are thousands of i)eople in the back streets, and 
nobody is speaking to them about My beloved Son; no 
one is asking them to go to the hall to hear of salvation. 
I have hundreds of people in that town who never sj^eak 
for Me." 

I know some say they could die for Christ. But He 
does not want you to die for Him. He wants you to 
live for Him; to sj^eak of His blood, and to weep over 
lost ones for Him. He would do it for you, but you 
would not do it for Him! 

If the angels only had the privilege to leave that glo- 
rious place in heaven, and come down to win souls for 
Christ, how many would go? or rather, how many would 
stoj) behind? I do not believe a single angel wcnild be 
left in heaven; they w^ould so in'ize the i^rivilcge for 
which God's children on earth care so little. 



THE PRODIGAL'S LOSSES 37 

But although the prodigal lost his home, food, work 
and testimony, he did not lose his sonship and he did 
not lose his citizenship. Once a man was a Jew, it was 
impossible to make him a Gentile. He did not lose his 
sonship either. That, too, is impossible. He may be 
disinherited, but he is a son all the same. 
A father's love. 

When I was at home, in Manchester, our family con- 
sisted of two brothers and two sisters. My brother was 
a bad boy, a prodigal, and they could not get him to 
work in the mill. 

One of my sisters said to her father, " Father, I will 
tell thee what thee ought to do with our John; turn him 
into the street." 

"Why?" asked the father. 

" Why," -she said, " see how good we all are, and how 
bad he is; he is a disgrace to us. Turn him away." 

Christmas Day came, and the family was together, 
and the old man read a chapter and prayed, and the 
prodigal was present. The father, turning around to 
the daughter, said: 

" Well, what are we to do with thy brother now? " 

Her reply was, " Put him in the street." 

Then he turned, put the question to a friend, and he 
said he did not like to interfere, but he thought it would 
do him good to turn him out a little. The old man left 
his chair, and said: "John, thy sister and brother and 
friend say I should turn thee out; but I am thy j)oor old 
father, and I will never put thee in the street, my boy." 

The prodigal was overcome by the father's love: it 



THE PRODIGAL 



was the means of leading his heart to the Lord, and he 
is now a preacher of the Gospel. 

NEVER TOO LA.TE. 

Oh, if you are in the far country, if all the angels in 
heaven turn their backs upon you, if all the devils in 
hell tell you you cannot be saved, and if your own heart 
says it is too late, never mind them — go home! Go back 
in spite of earth and hell, and tell your Father how you 
have wandered, and He will receive you; for the door is 
never shut, and a son will ever find a welcome. The 
prodigal went back, but it was with a downcast face: he 
did not see his father, but his father saw him, and he 
ran to meet him. This is the only place where we read 
of God being in a hurry. He did not run to create a 
world, but He ran to put His arms around the neck of 
a poor prodigal. Oh, never, never, never doubt your . 
Heavenly Father's love ! If you have wandered, go 
back and tell Him your sin, and He will receive you 
with a kiss upon your lips. 

And when the prodigal went home, he found the 
fatted calf ready. The fatted calf is always ready, do 
not doubt! 

THE IRISH mother's BOY. 

Once I was at Dublin, and a lady of the Society of 
Friends said to me, 

" Henry Moorhouse, I want thee to go and speak to a ] 
poor woman who is in great trouble." 

I went and found the poor old woman in her cottage 
in a sad state, rocking herself to and fro, and moaning. 
I asked her what troubled her, and she said her boy had 
broken her heart. She said: 



THE PRODIGAL'S LOSSES 39 

"You know my boy has gone away, and I had a 
letter from him to-day, and that has nearly broken my 
heart." 

She read me the letter, and she came to the words, 
" Dear mother, if you can never forgive me, don't curse 
me." 

Then she broke out again, "I never knew how much 
I loved him until he went away, and now to think he 
should say, ' Mother, don't curse me.' " 

It was the doubt of the mother's love that broke her 
heart. 

Oh, when any one can doubt our Heavenly Father's 
love, they must be in the far country! Come back, 
brother; come back, sister; come back to=day! The door 
is open, and there stands the loving Father. Say to 
Him, " I will arise, and go home." That moment the 
Father's arms will be around your neck. Come, come, 
come! Come to thy loving Father's arms, come back to 
thy home, come back to thy God, come back to thy 
work, come back now! 



THE PRODIGAUS CLIMAX. 

By C. H. SPURGEON. 

There are different stages in the sinner's history, andj 
they are worth marking in the prodigal's experience. 
There is, first, the stage in which the young man sought 
independence of his father. The younger son said: 

" Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to 
me." 

We know something of that state of mind; and, alas! 
it is a very common one. As yet there is no open pro- 
fligacy, no distinct rebellion against God. Religious 
services are attended, the fathers's God is held in 
reverence; but in his heart the young man desires a 
sujpposed liberty, he wishes to cast off all restraint. 
Companions hint that he is too much tied to his 
mother's axoron^string. He himself feels that there may 
be some strange delights which he has never enjoyed; 
and the curiosity of Mother Eve to taste the fruit of that 
tree which was good for food and pleasant to the eyes 
and a tree to be desired to make one wise, cohk^s into 
the young man's mind, and he wishes to put forth his 
hand and take the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of 
good and evil, that he may eat thereof. He never in- 
tends to spend his substance in riotous living, but he 
would like to have the opportunity of sx:)ending it as he 
likes. He does not mean to be a profligate ; still, he 

40 



THE PRODIGAL'S CLIMAX 41 

would like to have the honor of choosing what is right 
on his own account. At any rate, he is a man now; he 
feels his blushing honors full upon him, and he wants 
now to exercise his own freedom of will, and to feel that 
he himself is really his own master. Who, indeed, he 
asks, is lord over him? Perhaps there are some reading 
this who are just in such a state as that; if so, may the 
grace of God arrest you before you go any further away 
from Him! May you feel that to be out of gear with 
God, to wish to be separated from Him, and to have 
other interests than those of Him who made you, must 
be dangerous, and probably wdll be fatal! Therefore 
now, even now, may you come to yourself at this earliest 
stage of your history, and also come to love and rejoice 
in God as the prodigal returned to his father! 

Very soon, however, this young man in the parable 
entered upon quite another stage. He had received his 
portion of goods; all that he w^ould have had at his 
father's death he had turned into ready money, and 
there it is. It is his own, and he may do what he pleases 
with it. Having already indulged his independent 
feeling towards his father, and his wish to have a sepa- 
rate establishment altogether from him, he knew that he 
would be ^freer to carry out his plans if he was right 
away. Anywhere near his father there is a check upon 
him; he feels that the influence of his home somewhat 
clips his wings. If he could get into a far country, 
there he should have the opportunity to develop; and 
all that evolution could do for him he would have the 
opportunity of enjoying. So he gathers all together, 
and goes into the far countrv. 



42 THE PRODIGAL 



It may be that I am addressing some who have 
reached that stage. Now there is all the delirium of 
self-indulgence. Now it is all gaiety, " a short life and 
a merry one," forgetting the long eternity and a woful 
one. Now the cup is full, and the red wine sparkles in 
the bowl. As yet, it has not bitten you like a serpent, 
nor stung you like an adder, as it will do all too soon; 
but just now, it is the deadly sweetness that you taste, 
and the exhilaration of that drugged chalice that deceives 
you. You are making haste to enjoy yourself. Sin is a 
dangerous joy, beloved all the more because of the 
danger; for where there is a fearful risk, there is often 
an intense pleasure to a daring heart; and you perhaps 
are one of that venturous band, spending your days in 
folly and your nights in riotousness. 

Ere long there comes a third stage to the sinner as 
well as to the prodigal, that is when he has " spent all." 

We have only a certain amount of spending money 
after all. He who has gold without limit, yet has not 
health without limit; or if health does not fail him in 
his sinning, yet desire fails, and satiety comes in, as it 
did with Solomon when he tried this way of seeking 
hajjpiness. At last, there is no honey left, there is only 
the sting of the bee. At last, there is no sweetness in 
the cup, there is only the delirium that follows the in- 
toxication. At last, the meat is eaten to the bone, and 
there is nothing good to come out of that bone; it 
contains no marrow; the teeth are broken with it; and 
the man wishes that he had never sat down to so terrible 
a feast. He has reached the stage at which the prodigal 
arrived when he had spent all. 



THE PRODIGAL'S CLIMAX 43 

Oh, there be some who spend all their character, 
spend all their health and strength, spend all their hope, 
spend all their uprightness, spend everything that was 
worth having! They have spent all. This is another 
stage in the sinner's history, and it is very apt to lead to 
despair, and even deeper sin, and sometimes to that 
worst of sins which drives a man red-handed before the 
face of his Maker to account for his own blood. 

It is a dreadful state to be in, for there comes at the 
back of it a terrible hunger. There is a weary labor to 
get something that may stay the spirit, a descending to 
the degradation of feeding swine, a willingness to eat of 
the husks that swine do eat, yet an inability to do 
so. Many have felt this craving that cannot be satis- 
fied. But, for my part, I am glad when "the rake's 
progress" has reached this point; for often, in the 
grace of God, it is the way home for the prodigal; it is 
a roundabout way, but it is the way home for him. 
When men have spent all, and poverty has followed on 
their recklessness, and sickness has come at the call of 
their vice, then it is that omnipotent grace has stepped 
in, and there has come another stage in the sinner's 
history, of which I am now going to speak, as God may 
help me. That is the point the prodigal had reached 
" when he came to himself." 

I. Then, first 

A SINNER IS BESIDE HIMSELF. 

While he is living in his sin he is out of his mind, he 
is beside himself. I am sure that it is so. There is 
nothing more like to madness than sin; and it is a moot 
point among those who study deep problems how far 



44 THE PRODIGAL 



insanity and the tendency to sin go side by side, and 
whereabouts it is that great sin and entire loss of re- 
sponsibility may touch each other. I do not intend to 
discuss that question at all; but I am going to say that 
every sinner is morally and responsibly insane, and 
therefore in a worse condition than if he were only 
mentally insane. 

He is insane, first, because his judgment is aJiocjeihcr 
out of order. He makes fatal mistakes about all im- 
portant matters. He reckons a short time of this mor- 
tal life to be worth all his thoughts, and he puts eternity 
into the background. He considers it possible for a 
creature to be at enmity against the Creator, or indif- 
ferent to Him, and yet to be happy. He fancies that he 
knows better what is right for him than the law of God 
declares. He dreams that the everlasting gospel, which 
cost God the life of His own Son, is scarcely worthy of 
his attention at all, and he passes it by with contempt. 
He has unshipped the rudder of his judgment, and 
steers towards the rocks with awful deliberation, and 
seems as if he would wish to know where he can find 
the surest place to commit eternal shipwreck. His 
judgment is out of order. 

Further, his actions are those of a madman. This 
prodigal son, first of all, had interests apart from his 
father. He must have been mad to have conceived 
such an idea as that. For me to have interests apart 
from Him who made me, and keeps me alive — for me, 
the creature of an hour, to fancy that I can have a will 
in opposition to the will of God, and that I can so live 
and prosper — why, I must be a fool! I must be mad to 



THE PRODIGAL'S CLIMAX 45 

wish any such thing, for it is consistent with the high- 
est reason to believe that he who yields himself up to 
omnipotent goodness must be in the track of happiness, 
but that he who sets himself against the almighty grace 
of God must certainly be kicking against the pricks to 
his own wounding and hurt. Yet this sinner does not see 
that it is so, and the reason is that he is beside himself. 

Then, next, that young man went away from his 
home, though it was the best home in all the world. 
We can judge that from the exceeding tenderness and 
generosity of the father at the head of it, and from the 
wonderful way in which all the servants had such entire 
sympathy with their master. It was a happy home, 
well stored with all that the son could need ; yet he quits 
it to go, he knows not whither, among strangers who 
did not care a straw for him, and who, when they had 
drained his purse, would not give him even a cent with 
which to buy bread to save him from starving. The 
prodigal must have been mad to act like that; and for 
any of us to leave Him who has been the dwelling-place 
of His saints in all generations, to quit the warmth and 
comfort of the Church of God which is the home of joy 
.and peace, is clear insanity. Anyone who does this is 
acting against his own best interests, he is choosing the 
path of shame and sorrow, he is casting away all true 
delight; he must be mad. 

You can see further that this young man is out of his 
mind, because, when he gets into the far country, he 
begins spending his money riotously. He does not lay 
it out judiciously. He spends his money for that which 
is not bread, and his labor for that which satisfieth not; 



46 THE PRODIGAL 



and that is just what the sinner does. If he be self- 
righteous, he is trying to weave a robe out of the worth- 
less material of his own works; and if he be a voluptu- 
ary, given up to sinful indulgences, what vanity it is 
for him to hope for pleasure in the midst of sin! 
Should I expect to meet with angels in the sewers, with 
heavenly light in a dark mine? Nay, these are not 
places for such things; and can I rationally look for joy 
to my heart from revelling, chambering, wantonness, 
and such conduct? If I do, I must be mad. Oh, if 
men were but rational — and they often wrongly suppose 
that they are — if they were but rational beings, they 
would see 

HOW IRRATIONAL IT IS TO SIN! 

The most reasonable thing in the world is to spend life 
for its own true design, and not to fling it away as 
though it were a pebble on the sea^shore. 

Further, the prodigal was a fool, he was mad, for he 
spent all. He did not even stoiD half way on the road 
to penury, but he went on till he had spent all. 

There is no limit to those who have started on a 
course of sin. He that stays back from it, by God's 
grace may keep from it; but it is with sin as it is with 
the intoxicating cup. 

One said to me: '' I can drink much, or I can drink 
none; but I have not the power to drink a little, for if I 
begin I cannot stop myself, and may go to any length." 

So it is with sin. God's grace can keep you abstain- 
ing from sin; but, if you begin sinning, oh, how one 
sin draws on another! One sin is the decoy or magnet 
for another sin, and draws you on; and one cannot tell, 



THE PRODIGAVS CLIMAX 47 

when he begins to descend this slippery slide, how 
quickly and how far he may go. Thus the prodigal 
spent all in utter recklessness; and, oh, the recklessness 
of some young sinners whom I know! And, oh, the 
greater recklessness of some old sinners who seem re- 
solved to be damned, for, having but a little remnant of 
life left, they waste that last fragment of it in fatal 
delay. 

Then it was, dear friends, when the jorodigal had 
spent all, that he still further proved his madness. 
That would have been the time to go home to his father; 
but, apparently, that thought did not occur to him. 
" He went and joined himself to a citizen of that coun- 
try," still overpowered by the fascination that kept him 
away from the one place where he might have been 
happy; and that is one of the worst jproofs of the madness 
of some who, though they know about the great God 
and His infinite mercy, and know somewhat of how 
much they need Him and His grace, yet still they try 
to get what they want somewhere else, and do not go 
back to Him. 

The prodigal had the ivays of a madman. I have 
had, at times, to deal with those whose reason has failed 
them, and I have noticed that many of them have been 
perfectly sane, and even wise and clever, on all points 
except one. So it is with the sinner. He is a famous 
politician; just hear him talk. He is a wonderful man 
of business; see how sharply he looks after every cent. 
He is very judicious in everything but this, he is mad 
on one point, he has a fatal monomania, for it concerns 
bis own BoiiL 



48 THE PRODIGAL 



Mad people do not know that they have been mad till 
they are cured; they think that they alone are wise, and 
all the rest are fools. Here is another point of their re- 
semblance to sinners, for they also think that everybody 
is wrong except themselves. Hear how they will abuso 
a pious wife as " a fool." What hard words they will 
use towards a gracious daughter! How they will rail at 
the ministers of the gospel, and try to tear God's Bible 
to pieces! Poor mad souls, they think all are mad ex- 
cept themselves! We, with tears, pray God to deliver 
them from their delusions, and to bring them to sit at 
the feet of Jesus, clothed and in their right minds. 

II. Secondly, 

IT IS A BLESSED THING WHEN THE SINNER COMES TO 
HIMSELF. 

"When he came to himself." This is the first mark 
of grace working in the sinner as it was the first sign of 
hoiDC for the prodigal. 

It appears that when the prodigal came to himself he 
was shut up to two thoughts. Two facts were clear to 
him — that there was plenty in his father's house, and 
that he himself was famishing. May the two kindred 
spiritual facts have absolute power over your heart, if 
you are yet unsaved; for they were most certainly all- 
important and pressing truths. 

If we could shut up unconverted men to those two 
thoughts, what hopeful congregations we should have. 

This change is often sudden. There came into the 
Metropolitan Tabernacle one morning a man who had 
not for a long time gone to any place of worship. He 



THE PRODIGAVS CLIMAX 49 

despised such things; he could swear, and drink, and do 
worse things still; he was careless, godless; but he had a 
mother who often prayed for him, and he had a brother 
whose prayer has never ceased for him. He did not 
come to worship, he came just to see the preacher whom 
his brother had been hearing for so many years; but, 
coming in, somehow he was no sooner in the place than 
he felt that he was unfit to be there, so he went up into 
the top gallery, as far back as he could, and when some 
friend beckoned him to take a seat, he felt that he could 
not do so, he must just lean against the wall at the back. 
Someone else invited him to sit down, but he could not; 
he felt that he had no right to do so. 

The preacher announced his text, — "And the publi 
can, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his 
eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, 
God be merciful to me a sinner "; — and said something 
like this, " You that stand farthest off in the Taberna- 
cle, and dare not sit down because you feel your guilt to 
be so great, you are the man to whom God has sent me 
this morning, and he bids you come to Christ and 
find mercy." 

A miracle of love was then wrought. He came to 
himself. I rejoiced greatly when I heard of it, for in 
his case there was a change that everybody who knew 
him could see. He became full of a desire after every- 
thing that is gracious as once he practised everything 
that was bad. • Now that is what sometimes happens, 
and why should it not happen again this moment? 
Why should not some other man or woman come to 



50 THE PRODIGAL 



himself or to herself now? This is the way home, firs 
to come to yourself, and then to come to your Goc 
"He came to himself." 

Now let us consider how this change happened. 
you should ask me the outward circumstances of th 
prodigal's case, I should say that it took a great deal t( 
bring him to himself. 

" Why, surely! " one says, " he ought to have come 
himself when he had spent all. He must have come 
himself w^hen he began to be hungry." 

No; it took a great deal to bring him to himself an^ 
to his father; and it takes a great deal to bring sinnei 
to themselves and to their God. There are some of yoi 
who will have to be beaten with many stripes befoi 
you will be saved. I heard one say, who was crushe 
almost to death in an accident, 

"If I had not nearly perished, I should have wholl 
perished." 

So is it with many sinners; if some had not lost al 
they had, they would have lost all; but, by strong win( 
rough and raging, some are driven into the port 
peace. 

THE OCCASION OF THE PRODIGAL'S CLIMAX, 

of his coming to himself, was this; he was very hungr^ 
and in great sorrow, and he was alone. It is a granc 
thing if we can get people to be alone. There wt 
nobody near the poor man, and no sound for him 
hear except the grunting of the hogs, and the munching 
of those husks. Ah, to be alone! It is a good thing fo^ 
a sinner sometimes to be alone. The prodigal ha( 
nobody to drink with him, nobody to sport with himj 



THE PRODIGAL'S CLIMAX 51 

he was too far gone for that. He had not a rag to 
pawn to get another pint, he must therefore just sit still 
without one of his old companions. They only fol- 
lowed him for what they could get out of him. As long 
as he could treat them, they would treat him well; but 
when he had spent all, " no man gave unto him." He 
was left without a comrade, in misery he could not 
allay, in hunger he could not satisfy. He pulled that 
belt up another hole, and made it tighter; but it almost 
seemed as if he would pull himself in two if he drew it 
any closer. He was reduced almost to a skeleton; ema- 
ciation had taken hold of him, and he was ready to lie 
down there and die. Then it was that he came to him- 
l self. 

Do you know why this change occurred in the prodi- 
igoTs case? I believe that the real reason was that his 
I father was secretly working for him all the while. His 
state was known to his father; I am sure it was, because 
the elder brother knew it; and if the elder brother heard 
of it, so did the father. The elder brother may have 
told him; or, if not, the father's greater love would have 
a readier ear for tidings of his son than the elder 
brother had. 

Perhaps somebody says, " I wish I could come to my- 
self, sir, without going through all that process." 

Well, you have come to yourself already if you really 
wish that. Let me suggest to you that, in order to 
prove that it is so, you should begin seriously to think, 
to think about who you are, and where you are, and 
what is to become of you. Take time to think, and 
think in an orderly, steady, serious manner; and, if you 



52 THE PRODIGAL 



can, jot down your thoughts. It is a wonderful help to 
some people to put down upon paper an account of 
their own condition. I believe that there were many 
who found the Savior one night when I urged them, 
when they went home, to write on a piece of paper, 
"Saved as a believer in Jesus," or else, "Condemned 
because I believe not on the Son of God." Some who 
began to write that word " condemned " have never fin- 
ished it, for they found Christ there and then while 
seeking Him. 

You keep your account books, do you not? I am 
sure you do if you are in trade, unless you are going to 
cheat your creditors. You keep your business books; 
well, now, 

KEEP A RECORD CONCERNING YOUR SOUL. 

Really look these matters in the face — the hereafter, 
death which may come so suddenly, the great eternity, 
the judgment-seat. Do think about these things; do 
not shut your eyes to them. Men and women, I pray 
you, do not play the fool! If you must play the fool, 
take some lighter things to trifle with than your souls 
and your eternal destinies. Shut yourselves up alone 
for a while; go through this matter steadily, lay it out 
in order, make a plan of it. See where you are going. 
Think over the way of salvation, the story of the cross, 
the love of God, the readiness of Christ to save; and I 
think that while this process is going on, you will feel 
your heart melting, and soon you will find your soul 
believing in the precious blood which sets the sinner 
free. 



THE PRODIGAL'S CLIMAX 53 

WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF, THEN HE CAME TO HIS 
FATHER. 

When a sinner comes to himself, he soon comes to 
his God. This poor prodigal, soon after he came to 
himself, said> 

" I will arise, and go to my father." 

What led him back to his father? Very briefly let 
me answer that question. 

First, his memory aroused him. He recollected his 
father's house, he remembered the past, his own riotous 
living. 

Do not try to forget all that has happened; the terri- 
ble recollections of a misspent past may be the means 
of leading you to a new life. Set memory to work. 

Next, his misery bestirred him. Every pang of 
hunger that he felt, the sight of his rags, the degrada- 
tion of associating with swine — all those things drove 
him back to his father. 

O, reader, let your very needs, your cravings, your 
misery, drive you to your God! 

Then, his fears whipped him hack. He said, " I per- 
ish with hunger." He had not perished yet, but he 
was afraid that he soon would do so; he feared that he 
really would die, for he felt so faint. 

O, reader, see what will become of you if you do die 
in your sins! What awaits you but an endless future 
of limitless misery? Sin will follow you into eternity, 
and will increase upon you there, and as you shall go 
on to sin, so shall you go on to sorrow ever^increasing. 
A deeper degradation and a more tremendous penalty 



54 THli PRODIGAL 



will accompany your sin in the world to come; therefore 
let your fears drive you home, as they drove home the 
poor prodigal. ' 

Meanwhile, his hope dreio him. This gentle cord was r 
as powerful as the heavy whip: 

" In my father's house there is bread enough and to 
spare; I need not perish with hunger, I may yet be 
filled." 

Oh, think of what you may yet be! Poor sinner, 
think of what God can do and is ready to do for you, to 
do for you even now! How happy He can make you! 
How peaceful and how blessed! So let your hope draw 
you to Him. 

Then, his resolve moved Mm. He said, " I will arise, 
and go to my father." All else drove him or drew him, 
and now he is resolved to return home. He rose up 
from the earth on which he had been sitting amidst his 
filthiness, and he said, 

" I will." 

Then the man became a man. He had come to him- 
self; the manhood had come back to him, and he said 
" I will, I will." 

Lastly, there was the real ad of going to his father, 
it was that which brought him home. Nay, let me cor- 
rect myself; it is said, "He came to his faiher,^^ but 
there is a higher truth at the back of that, for his 
father came to him. 

So, when you are moved to return, and the resolution 
becomes an action, and you arise, and go to God, salva- 
tion is yours almost before you could have expected it; 
for, once turn your face that way, and while you are yet 



THE PRODIGAUS CLIMAX 56 

a great way off, your Father will outstrip the wind, and 
come and meet you, and fall upon your neck, and kiss 
you with the kisses of reconciliation. 

This shall be your portion if you will but trust the 
Lord Jesus Christ. 



"HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 

By W. HAY HITKEN. 
^^ And when he came to himself. '''' — Luke XV, 17. 

Here the sinner is presented to us as suffering from a 
species of moral insanity. 

I was once conducting a mission in the north of Eng- 
land, and the clergyman in whose church I was preach- 
ing, received from an anonymous correspondent one of 
the handbills which had been circulated in preparation 
for the mission, with two words added after the words, 
"A mission" — viz.: " for lunatics," so that it read, "A 
mission for lunatics!" I do not suppose that the man 
who wrote those words had any particular intention of 
telling the truth, but it is startling to think how neaij 
the truth he came. 

Perhaps, if we could see things as those bright intel- 
ligences see them, who are permitted to hover round this 
world of ours, and to be witnesses of human action, we 
should be disposed to regard this world of ours as one 
great lunatic asylum. It must seem strange to them 
that to men and women there should be made such glo- 
rious offers, that before their eyes there should be 
spread such magnificent possibilities, and that in the 
folly of their unbelief they should turn their back upon 
their own truest interest, and sin against their own 
souls. 

56 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF" 57 

Lunatics, indeed! There are dangerous lunatics, 
frenzied by passion or goaded by ambition, so danger- 
ous that sometimes their fellow4iinatics have to put a 
kind of restraint upon them, for fear that the paroxysms 
of their moral disease should injure society too seri- 
ously. Then there are harmless lunatics, men and 
women whose lives are simply insipid, who seem to be 
just as void of any object in life as the butterfly that 
flits from flower to flower, drifted about by every influ- 
ence that happens to be for the moment affecting them, 
without any recognition of the dignity of their own be- 
ing. Then again, there are the self-complacent lunatics, 
the men and women who are so particularly self-satisfied 
that they can afford to look down upon everybody else, 
and persuade themselves that they are models of good 
sense, and that those who are possessed of that spiritual 
wisdom which comes from above, are themselves in a 
state of insanity. 

Is it not so? Is not that just the way in which self- 
complacent men of the world speak about those who 
know something about the realities of eternity? Have 
we not heard it again and again, till we are almost tired 
of hearing it, ever since the days when Festus charged 
Paul with being "beside himself"? Did not that man 
who wrote those two words on that handbill just mean 
that he, in his own self-complacency, was so satisfied 
with his own good sense that he regarded those who be- 
lieved in eternity and accordingly began to make prep- 
aration for it, as little better than fools? 

Indeed, this is one of the features of lunacy. Go into a 
lunatic asylum, and you will always find a large number 



58 THE PRODIGAL 



of patients who regard themselves as injured persons, who 
are suffering not from their own disease of insanity, but 
from the insanity of other people. There are some who 
fancy themselves kings upon their thrones, and their i 
subjects too insane to render them the honor which is 
their due. Others who imagine themselves men of vast 
wealth and possessions, and those who ought to be their 
servants too insane to render them the service they have 
a rightful claim to. So, while they persuade themselves 
that they are indeed in the full possession of their 
senses, they also contrive to please themselves by think- 
ing that other persons who are actually sane, are afflicted 
with the very disease from which they are suffering. 

Friends, it is even so in the spiritual world. The men 
and women whom Satan has deluded most completely, are 
just those who are the least conscious of their own in- 
sanity. The disease has taken so firm a hold upon their 
moral system that they believe that they are more sane 
than those who are living in the light of Divine wisdom. 
Their view of the case is an exact inversion of the truth ; 
and as long as this moral infatuation continues, the 
efforts which are made by those who see things as they 
are, to awaken them from their fatal slumber, are re- 
garded by these spiritual lunatics as simply the indi- 
cation of mental obliquity, while they themselves, for- 
sooth, in their profound stupor flatter themselves that 
they alone are reasonable beings. 

Now this young man brought before us in this story 
is just the sort of person whom the world would describe 
as a thoroughly sensible fellow. I feel sure that such a 



''BE CAME TO HIMSELF'* 69 

man in our own day would be thus described by his com- 
panions. He showed his sense just in the way in which 
men of the world show theirs now. Let us regard him, 
for a few moments, from this point of view. 

The first thing that this "sensible" man does is to 
feel 

DISSATISFIED 

within himself at the condition of dependence in which 
he is introduced to us. The father seems to have been 
in comfortable circumstances — perhaps in affluence, 
The young man has never been begrudged anything. 
All his wants have been supplied as fast as they have 
arisen. But then his position was one of dependence, 
and it was that that made things so far from agreeable. 
It was his father's way not to make him a regular allow- 
ance with which he might do as he liked, but to keep 
him constantly dependent upon him, from day to day, as 
his wants arose. He stinted him in nothing; but then 
it would have been so much pleasanter if the man had 
been allowed to take those means (which were employed 
indeed in his behalf), and use them himself as he liked. 
It was so humiliating to be dependent upon his father 
for everything. That this was the way in which the 
father treated the son, is evident from the statement of 
the elder brother. He says, 

"Lo, these many years do I serve thee, and yet thou 
never gavest me a kid that I might make merry with my 
friends." 

It was not his father's way to bestow his wealth upon 
his children, sothat they might possess an independent 



60 THE PRODIGAL 



property, but to supply their reasonable wants as fast as 
they occurred, and it was against this state of things 
that the man's will began to rebel. 

" Why should not I be like other fellows? What a 
humiliating thing it is that I should be treated like a 
grown=up child! If I had my own fortune, to do what I 
liked with, I should very soon be able to show this father 
of mine what the use of money is, and how it should be 
spent. Here 1 am, dependent upon him for everything. 
I cannot stand it any longer." 

And so, like a thoroughly sensible man, he goes to his 
father and makes his plea: 

"Father, give me the portion of goods that appertaineth 
to me. Why should I be kept in this condition any 
longer? I am of age, and surely I can judge for myself 
how my money should be spent. This property of yours 
is to belong to us one day. I may as well have my share 
now, to do what I like with." 

The father does not refuse; he will not keep his son in 
a state of compulsory dependence upon him. There and 
then "he divided unto them his living." Observe, he 
divides his living between both his sons. It does not 
say that he gave half to the younger son and kept the 
other half himself, but " he divided unto them his liv- 
'ing." 

What became of the elder son's portion? Wliere did 
he invest it? How did he employ it? We find that 
long years afterwards this elder son says, "Thou never 
gavest me a kid that I might make merry with my 
friends." Ah! the elder brother had the wisdom to give 
back what was his. No sooner was his portion of goods 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 61 

assigned to him than he put it back again in safe keep- 
ing. 

I can fancy him saying to his father, "I do not 
want my portion. I am quite happy. I have all I 
want." 

In a moment of discontent, at a later period, he 
allows himself to speak hardly of his father's treatment, 
but this eldest son understood his father on the whole, 
although for a moment he might be unfaithful to the 
consciousness of the benefits of his position; and so he 
had the wisdom to give back what his father had given 
to him. 

"I do not want it. I am perfectly contented. 
I have all that I desire. You have never grudged me 
anything. If I want anything I can always come to you 
for it. You and I are one. We are united together, and 
it is far pleasanter for me to know that all my life is in 
your hands, than for me to have the responsibility of 
keeping it myself. I might make mistakes: you have 
had far more experience than I, and you are far more 
likely to conserve my property, and to further my well- 
being, than I should be myself." 

But the younger son was a far more sensible fellow 
than that, so as soon as he gets his money, he makes up 
his mind to spend it according to his own heart's desire. 
Thus the second thing this particularly sensible young 
man does, is to make up his mind that 

THE EESTEAINTS OF HOME 

are positively intolerable. He cannot go on in this 
droning way any longer. He must see something of 
the world. Life is hardly worth having under such con- 



62 THE PRODIGAL 



ditions. He must break away from the restraints of the 
paternal roof, turn his back upon his old associations, 
and go forth and enjoy himself. He has had enough of 
this hum^drum, tedious life. So like a very sensible 
young man, he leaves his father's home, and goes forth 
into a distant land. 

I can fancy it costs him something at the moment. 
Nobody ever goes to hell without meeting with difficul- 
ties in the way. As he looks into his father's face and 
sees the tear rising in the old man's eye — as he takes a 
long last look at the dear old home where he had spent 
so many happy innocent years, I can fancy it costs him 
something. A better instinct would sometimes assert 
itself within his nature. 

"Have you not been happy? Those sunny hours of 
childhood, what could have been more pleasant? If you 
have been unhappy it has been your own fault. If you 
had only availed yourself of all the opportunities of your 
position, you might have been as happy as any man need 
be. Your brother is a happy man; why should not you 
have been?" 

But the lower instinct i^revailed. His doivnrighi good 
commoU'Scnse was stronger than anything else; so that 
this thoroughly sensible man makes up his mind to turn 
his back upon his father's house, and into a distant land 
he goes. 

Now, dear friends, before we follow him further, let us 
just compare his case with ours. Wherein does our 
good sense consist? How do the sensible men of our 
own day emulate the conduct of this person whose his- 



''BE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 63 

tory is brought before us here? I reply, they act in 
precisely the same way. 

The first thing the sinner desires to do is to assert his 
own independence. Our God does not deny us things 
that are suitable for us. It was a slander of Satan that 
suggested that God forbade our first parents to eat of 
the fruit of the trees of the garden. But God does de- 
sire us to take all that we have straight from His own 
hand, to live a life of continual dependence upon Him, 
to draw all our joy from Him, to be happy because we 
live in His society, and to find a blessed liberty in be- 
ing continually His servants. This is the life God 
would have us live. Why? Because He is a tyrant? 
No; because He is a Friend. How does He show His 
friendliness by imposing such restraints upon us? Be- 
cause He knows that His service is perfect freedom, 
and that it is only as we yield ourselves up to His serv- 
ice that we really can be partakers of the fulness of joy 
which it is His will that we should command. 

Some sensible men don't think so. They have made 
up their mind that no greater evil can be apprehended 
than dependence. What is the root^sin of humanity? 
The turning aside of the human heart from its God. 
" I will not have God to reign over me. I will not be 
dictated to by His will. I will take my own way. I- 
will run after my own desire. I will work out the coun- 
sels of my own heart. Self shall be my ruler, not Je- 
hovah." This is 

THE PEIME ACT OF EEBELLION 

which severs at once between the heart of man and his 



64 THE PRODIGAL 



God, and prepares liim for taking the second step whi( 
leads him out of the Divine presence into the distan^ 
country. 

Are there not some of my readers who know in theii 
own hearts that this has been the sin of their lifetime? 
Brethren, have you been leading lives of dependenc 
upon God? This is a plain question, is it not? An- 
swer it. Have you taken your daily bread as comintc 
from His hand? The pleasures of life — have you re- 
garded them as the gift of His love? Life's friend- 
ships, life's joys, life's privileges — have they all been so 
many manifestations of His fatherly care? Has every- 
thing turned you Godward? In the midst of all tli 
long battle of life have you been supported by a blessetl 
sense of confidence in Him? 

How many of you know that your experience has 
been just the opposite of all this: self=assertion, sell 
pleasing, running after your own desires, and gratifyinu 
your own passions — it is thus that you have lived. And 
such a life, what is it, dear friends? The world points 
to it and says it is the life of a sensible man. The an- 
gels point to it, and methinks, if we could hear their 
testimony, we should catch the word upon their lips. 
"It is the life of a lunatic, i3ossessed of an evil spirit 
who has blinded his understanding so that the man is 
utterly given over to strong delusion, and is utterly 
deaf to the voice of his own interests as well as to the 
commands of God." 

Then, what next? Having asserted our own inde- 
pendence, the next thing is to get as far away from God 
as possible. We go into distant land; we do not want 



'*HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 65 

to have God in our thoughts. It is a disagreeable 
thing to hear God spoken about. Even in His holy 
house God is kept at a distance. We join in the serv- 
ice, but it is the music we are thinking of, not of God. 
We listen to the sermon, but it may be the eloquence of 
the preacher that we are attracted to, not the voice of 
God that we hear. We do not want to have anything 
to do with God; we keep Him as far away from us as 
possible. Why? Because we have gone into the far 
country. 

This young man might have gone somewhere near 
home and enjoyed himself there, but he would not have 
been so comfortable as long as his father was near. He 
would not have liked his father's eye to follow him ; he 
wanted to get away from all restraint; and the mere 
sight of his father's countenance would have been 
enough to mar his pleasure. So he goes into " the far 
country." 

O, my friend, if, in the midst of the life of frivolity 
and sin which you are leading, you were suddenly 
brought face to face with God, what a pang of agony,- 
what a thrill of terror would pass through you ! how it 
would mar all your enjoyment and take away all com- 
fort out of your life ! You do not want to have any- 
thing to do with God. The less you have to do with 
Him the better. " The fool hath said in his heart. No 
God." "Let me take my own way; do not let Him in- 
terfere with my life." So it is that we go into the far 
country. Cain went forth from the presence of God. 
He went into the land of wandering. He found plenty 
to occupy him there, but no God was there. Whatever 



THE PRODIGAL 






else he had, the presence of God was excluded from his 
experience. He built him cities. He and his family 
made discoveries. They got on in the world, they mul- 
tiplied, they prospered. Everything seemed to go well 
with them; and yet God was banished from their eyes, 
and their whole lives seemed to be designed to demon- 
strate how well man can get along without God. And 
the end of it all was, the flood came and destroyed them 
alL- 

Now what was the next step that this sensible fellow 
took? When he had asserted his independence and 
had got away from his father and the restraints of 
home, he began to enjoy himself. He " wasted his sub- 
stance with riotous living." That does not sound very 
sensible just at first, but there are plenty of young men 
who show their good sense by pursuing the same 
course. 

" Oh," you say, " we do not approve of fellows being 
spendthrifts." 

Yet you approve of men spending something that is 

FAR MORE PRECIOUS THAN MONEY. 

fiow have you been spending your time? What have 
you to show for it? How have you been spending your 
influence? You might have been using it for eternity, ■ 
and already there might"'have been a crown of glory laid • 
up as the result of welhused influence. What has be- , 
come of it? 

How have you been spendiug your money? for we 
may as well speak of that too. Some of you have been 
scattering it to the winds; others hoarding it \x\i in the 
bank; some, laying it out in business si)eculations, and 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 67 

the very gold that you might have so used as to lay up 
for yourselves treasures in heaven, has become the 
curse of your life. How does it appear in God's sight? 
Wasted! — that substance of yours squandered, because 
it has never been turned to any really good pur^Dose. 

What about your /acitZ/zes and poivers, — your under- 
standing, your affection, your will? All these things 
are so much treasure that has been put into your h^d. 
You have asserted your own independence. You pro- 
claim yourself master of all you possess. What have 
you done with it all? Just what this sensible man did, 
What results have you to show for all your expendi- 
ture? You have been lavish and profuse; has it 
brought you heart peace, deep inward satisfaction, 
calm, undying delight, the prospect of glory beyond 
the grave ? What have you got by it ? O, ye men of the 
world, who have lived so industriously for Satan, and 
wrought his will so unweariedly, what wages has 
has he paid you? Are they not already beginning to 
overshadow your nature, withering up your faculties to 
a greater or lesser extent, — blighting your purer and 
holier desires, — dragging you down into a gaping sep- 
ulchre, — winding in your grave clothes, and preparing 
you as a wasted corpse for the burial of eternity, while 
you look sorrowfully upon the lost opportunities and 
the misspent energies of a wasted life. 

What was the next thing that this sensible young 
man did? He formed a great many 

GAY ACQUAINTANCES. 

I do not think there is a young man that lives for the 
world but will agree that he shewed himself to be a 



68 THE PRODIGAL 



"sensible" man in doing that. It is just what you do. 
How many a young man there is that is kept back from 
doing what he knows is right because he has formed so 
many acquaintances, and is surroui^ded by the influ- 
ence of his companions? He would like to be different, 
but then he cannot shake off their influence; they keep 
him spell^bound. How " sensible " you are to let those 
friends of yours do the very worst that your worst 
enemy could desire to do for you! Do you think that 
really iS "sensible"? 

Take a good look at this picture. Does this young 
man, after all, seem a particularly sensible being? 
What are his friends doing for him? Well, they are 
kindly helping him to get rid of his money. He has 
got too much of it, and they are trying to help him 
squander it. If there is a feast, if there is a scene of 
debauchery, a wild revel, he has only to hold up his fin- 
ger and he can get as many friends as he likes. What 
does he gain from them? He is giving a great deal 
away for their sakes; how much is he getting in ex- 
change? Real friendship? You do not mean to say 
that is friendship; — that poor, empty, hollow masquer- 
ade, do you call that friendship? Do these friends 
stand by him for one moment in the practical battle of 
life? What has become of them when sickness smites 
the body, or disaster effects the purse, when prospects 
are blighted, and hopes are dashed? What becomes of 
your fine friends then? How readily they find it con- 
venient to cut you in the street! With cold, pitiless 
scorn, they pass by those who are striken on life's bat- 
tle-field. You do not mean to say that you have carried 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 69 

your " sense" so far as to persuade yourselves that this 
is friendship? 

I suppose this sensible man was flattering himself, in 
the midst of his revelry and folly, with the considera- 
tion: 

"Well, I have a splendid retinue of friends around 
me. There is not a more popular man in the neighbor- 
hood. Look where I will, friendly eyes meet mine, 
friendly voices respond to my smile. I am a most 
fortunate fellow to make such friends as these." 

Perhaps he thought so. Yet I cannot help thinking 
that in his graver moments he must have had misgiv- 
ings. By and by there comes a change in his circum- 
stances. Somehow or other, by their help or otherwise, his 
wealth has been got rid of, and he "finds himself, for the 
first time in his life, alone. Where have they gone, 
those friends who swarmed around him? What has 
become of their blandishments? How is it that their 
smiles have forsaken their countenances? They seem 
to look at him coldly now. There is a distant saluta- 
tion. By and by there is no salutation at all, and in 
that distant famine-stricken land he begins to find him- 
self alone! 

So will it be, dear friends, in the practical experience 
of life. Whether you take the path of outward sinner 
or not, and plunge into profligacy and vice, or whether 
your sins are of a more " respectable " nature, you will 
find plenty of people to back you in them. The opinion 
of society will be with you. The spirit of the world will 
stand by you valiantly until the critical moment comes. 
Let sorrow blight your heart, what about your worldly 



70 THE PRODIGAL 



friends then? Let the blinds fall in your house, what 
consolation can they offer? Let disaster come, how can 
they help you? Let that body of yours be stricken with 
disease, what comfort can they administer? Let death 
aj)proach, they fly in terror. O paltry, miserable friend- 
ship, can you do nothing more than this? Is it for such 
a friendship as this that men will turn their back upon 
their heavenly Father's house, and forfeit the present 
enjoyment of their Father's love, and participation in 
their Father's everlasting joy? 

What was the next thing that this sensible young man 
did? When his pleasures had all failed him, when his 
roses had become thorns, then he began to be sober, 
and, like many sober people, began to look about for 
employment. He finds it rather difiicult to obtain any 
emiDloyment that suits him. But employment he must 
have. 

O! how like many of our worldly prodigals! when they 
have spent their youth in following one wild excitement 
after another — in poor, empty, idle hilarity and futile 
mirth — when manhood comes on with all its grave cares, 
they begin to occupy their minds with business. The 
mighty famine has begun. The man is beginning to 
find the emi)tiness of the pleasures for which he has 
lived. He can no longer enjoy them. The capacity for 
enjoyment is beginning to pass away from him; and 
now he plunges into business. He becomes a slave of 
daily routine, it may be. His mind is taken up with a 
thousand occupations. He begins to work hard, and all 
to satisfy 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 71 

THE MORAL HUNGEE OF HIS NATUEE. 

He gives himself up to money making, yet that does not 
satisfy, but he thinks it will. He flies to speculation: 
that excites, but does not satisfy — he hopes it will He 
betakes himself to domestic occupations, the joys or the 
cares of family life, and he hopes to find satisfaction 
there; yet he does not. Is not that man a sensible 
being? 

The mighty famine becomes more and more insup- 
portable, and the want becomes more and more appalling. 
Our young friend sits solitary in the field. Can't you 
see him? His clothes are torn into rags, his eyes are 
sunken in their sockets, his cheeks are hollow, his lips 
are parched and cracked; he looks like the very effigy of 
famine itself. The swine are feeding around him. He 
is gnawing at the very husks which the swine eat. 
" And no man gave unto him." What, no man? no man. 
Of all his former friends, of those who had stood by him 
so faithfully as long as he had money to spend and lux- 
uries to offer, what! no man? Not that boon companion, 
not that friend that only a few weeks ago swore that he 
would stand by him through thick and thin? No man? 
None. 

The last crust has been devoured. There he sits 
famine^stricken, solitary, the prey of hunger in his body, 
far more the prey of remorse in his soul! There he 
sits. Poor "sensible" man! that is what his common 
sense has brought him to. 

At this moment a change takes place. Holy Script- 
ure describes it as a change from insanity to sanity. 



72 THE PRODIGAL 



He ceases to be a lunatic, and he begins to be himself. 
" He came to himself." There passes from him, like a 
horrible dream, that strange delirium of the life which 
he had been leading since he left his father's home, with 
all its transient circumstances, its fleeting joys, its 
gaudy decorations, the poor, empty bubbles that have 
broken in his grasp — it has all passed from him like a hor- 
rible dream. He starts, as from a horrible nightmare. 
Can't you see him as he springs from the ground, with 
a sudden light beaming upon his countenance, his face 
turned toward the home of his infancy? 

"What a fool I have been! My whole life has been 
one great mistake. From beginning to end, I have just 
been adding error to error as well as sin to sin. I have 
thrown away health, and affluence, and comfort, and 
respectability, and peace of mind, and innocency, and 
reputation, everything worth having — I have lost it 
all! And here I am, a wreck of a man, all real pleasure 
gone out of my life, stricken down with the fatal pest- 
ilence of sin, shrivelled up by a miserable famine which 
reigns within my nature. What a fool I am!" 

O, happy they who come to this conclusion before it 
is too late! I cannot help fearing that some of our 
"sensible" men never wake up from their dream of 
insanity until the last awful moment of their earthly 
exi^eriences arrive; and then, when death is drawing 
near, eternity opening upon them — then you know, 
dear friends, it is too late to " come to ourselves." The 
agony that distorts the countenance of th^ dying, the 
horror that pales the cheeks and blanches the lips, can 
never recall so much as one single opportunity. If you 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF"* 73 

" come to yourself " on your death-bed, just when you are 
going into eternity, it will simply be an anticipation of 
the pangs of your hell; you will simply antedate the 
torments of remorse which are already waiting for you. 
Thank God! we may " come to ourselves " now. Hast 
thou not found out that after all the Psalmist is right 
when he says, "Man walketh in a vain shadow, and 
disquieteth himself in vain "? Have you started out of 
your death-dream and suddenly discovered that you are 
on the brink of eternity unprepared, that you have 
wasted your talents, and squandered your substance, 
and injured your own nature, sinned against your own 
interest, and wounded the heart of your God? 

This young man first "came to himself" with regard 
to the past. He had thought previously that he was act- 
ing "sensibly"; now he sees that he has been 

PLAYING THE FOOL. 

He has been trying all along to persuade himself 
that he has really been enjoying himself; now he 
suddenly comes to the conclusion that all the while 
he has been a stranger to real happiness. He looks at 
those four, or five, or six years. Before, he had plumed 
himself upon the life he had been leading; now, he 
scarcely dares to think of it. He hides his face with 
shame; he buries it in his hands, as he sits there in the 
field, the hot tears streaming through his fingers — 

"What a fool I have been! What a wretch I have 
been! What a base ingrate I have been! Good God! 
wert Thou to strike me down with a thunderbolt of dis- 
pleasure to the very depths of hell, it is only what I 
deserve." 



74 THE PRODIGAL 



And he " comes to himself " with regard to the present. 
He finds himself 

FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH. 

Nearer and nearer the grim spectre draws, the bov, 
seems already bent, and the arrow seems already fixed, 
and in a moment the fatal shaft may fly, and his mortal 
career may end in doom. Face to face with death — it 
is an awful thing! He feels it in his own body. That 
strange numbness that is creeping over him, that sense 
of mortal weakness, that stupor which has already been 
paralyzing the senses — what is it? incipient death. His 
strength has passed into weakness. He can scarcely 
totter across the field. His haggard form seems more 
fit for a sepulchre than for human society. What can 
he do? Whatever he can do he must do quickly. The 
tide of life is ebbing fast; a few more hours, and his 
opportunity will be gone. It is a long way to the country 
he has left, a long way to his father's house; if anything 
is to be done, not so much as a moment must be lost. 

And thus it is that he also " comes to himself " with 
regard to the future. The future! what can he do? 
What hoi^e is there for him? Has he not lost every 
chance, and thrown away every possibility? Kay, it 
strikes him that there is just 

A FAINT RAY OF HOPE: 

it seems a very faint one. Is there a possibility that he 
may get some relief from his friends in this distant land? 
No, he has given that up altogether. Can he not find a 
better master somewhere? No, ho has tried all through 
the famine-stricken country, and this man who has sent 
him into the fields to feed swine is the best that he can 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'* 75 

find. What can he do? Can he work any harder? No, 
he has no strength left to work. 

Where is hope to be found? Where is that ray of 
dim, uncertain light coming from ? There rises up within 
his recollection the memory of a peaceful home, of calm, 
happy days. The bright sunlight of his childhood 
returns on his memory like a pleasant dream amidst 
the frightful horrors of his present experience. Could 
he regain it ! could he retrace his steps, and get one more 
look at that dear old place! could he but sit down 
amongst the "hired servants" of his father's house! 

My friends, he not only '• comes to himself " with 
regard to himself, but also with regard to his father. 
He has taken a wrong view of his father — a distorted 
view. He had painted him in the most repulsive colors. 
Now he takes a different view of the case, and comes to 
the conclusion that after all he was wrong. He had 
wronged those hoary hairs. The thought rises in his 
mind: 

" He loved me. Yes, he loved me after all. I saw the 
tear start into his eye when I left home. He wrung my 
hand when I went away from him, and his lip was 
quivering. Though I have given him so much trouble, 
I know he loved me. He was never hard on me. When, 
as a child, I wanted anything reasonable, it was always 
within my reach. If I had childish troubles, those kind, 
fatherly hands were laid upon my brow, and fatherly 
words of tenderness were spoken in my ear. Yes, he did 
love me. I have wronged him. I had no right to 
think him hard. He was not hard, I wonder if he is 
changed? Years have passed over him, years have 



76 THE PRODIGAL 



i 



passed over me. I left him with a smiling countenance, 
I put on my best appearance, and tried to seem as though 
I did not care a straw for leaving him. Perhaps he has 
hardened his heart against me, and will never look at me 
again. Yet perhaps there is something like love in his 
heart towards me still. Surely he cannot have altogether 
ceased to love his poor, wandering boy." 

So he starts to his feet, and in another moment the 
word of resolution has sped forth from his lips, 

" I will arise and go to my father." 

It is even so with thee, awakened sinner. So soon as 
God begins to awaken thee. He awakens thee first of all 
with regard to the jmst. 

Are you not awakened in regard to the past? You 
used to look upon it with complacency; now you look 
upon it with horror. You used to think well of your- 
self; now you cannot speak of yourself too hardly. 
There was a time when you flattered yourself that, at 
any rate, you were no worse than any other people; now 
it seems as if you could not invent any epithet suffi- 
ciently strong to indicate your horror and disgust at 
your past life. How is it? 

You are beginning to " come to yourself," too, ivith 
regard to your present. You find yourself face to face 
with death. Spiritual death has already grasped you. 
Its iron clutch is on you. That dread spectre is looking 
you in the face. You are beginning to realize, in your 
own terrible experience, the force of the words, "Dying, 
thou shalt die!" Do what you will, you cannot writhe 
out of the grasp of that terrible spiritual arrest. *'0 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 77 

wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the 
body of this death?" 

And you come to yourself loith respect to the future. 
"Is there a possibility that I can be otherwise? May I 
turn my back upon the past? Is it possible that a sin- 
ner like myself can lead a new life? May even I be- 
come a new creature?" 

Then it is that the soul begins to "come to itself 
with respect to the character of our heavenly Fath- 
er. Ah ! my dear friends, you may have maligned Him, 
you may have slandered Him, you may have allowed Sa- 
tan to misrepresent Him to your own fancy. You may 
have conceived of Him " as an austere man, reaping where 
he had not sown, and gathering where he had. not 
strewed." It seems as though you could not speak too 
harshly of Him. But all that has changed, and you are 
beginning to come to the conclusion that 

AFTER ALL HE IS YOUB FATHER, 

that He has a Father's tenderness, pity and love; that 
although you have misrepresented Him so long, and 
sinned against Him so grossly, yet there must be some- 
thing in that heart of His that goes out towards your 
misery. Ah! my friend, you are only just beginning 
to "come to yourself" about that Father: but if you will 
go a little nearer to that Father's house, bare your bo- 
som to that Father's influence, if you will expose your« 
self to that Father's eye, it will not be long before you 
will have a different estimate from what you have even 
this moment of what that Father's love really is. Think 
not of God the Father as if He were unsympathetic. 



78 THE PRODIGAL 



Believe what Christ Himself has taught of His Father's •] ' 
love: "God so loved the world that He gave His Son." ; 

It was with a trembling step that the prodigal re- ' 
turned towards home; but, thank God, we may lay ouml 
fears aside. We need not tremble. We may feel per-* 
fectly sure what the nature of the Father's character 
is. 

"He saw him afar off." Long before the prodigal 
saw the father, the father saw the prodigal. He must 
have been w^atching for him somewhere; standing at the 
window of his house, perhaps, gazing towards the dis-j 
tant land, thinking: "Will he come back, that wander 
ing boy of mine? Will he return to his father's house? 
Is there chance of my seeing him again?" 

Yes, all the time long he has been waiting and long 
ing, longing and waiting. At last he sees a figure in 
the distance. It does not look like the same bright, hap- 
py boy that left his home a few years before, but it is 
the same. The father's heart goes out towards him. 
In another moment the father's feet are speeding tc 
meet him. The father has no need to come to himself, 
He has been himself all the time. His heart has never 
changed, his love has never ceased, his i3ity has never 
failed. He flies on the very wings of love to meet the 
poor returning wretch. His rags do not repel him 
His filth does not drive him back. Nay, nay, he caste 
his arms about his neck, clasps him in the embrace oi 
affection. Hot tears stream down his cheeks. 

"This, my son," he cries in triumph, as though he 
were a hero, instead of a reprobate, " This, my son, w 
dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found." 



''HE CAME TO HIMSELF'' 79 

Sinner, are you tired of that land of famine? Are 
you tired of wasting your substance, — tired of living as 
you have lived, — tired of sinning against your own in- 
terest, — tired of wandering from one poor folly to anoth- 
er, — from one empty occupation to another? Are you 
tired of seeking to satisfy the hunger of your soul with 
the miserable husks which are only fit for swine? If so, 
then yield yourself ujd to the influences of that blessed 
Spirit who would bring you to yourself now. 

O God, our God, may the prodigals come to themselves 
now ! May they start uj) from their death swoon ! May 
they see themselves as they really are! May they turn 
their backs jipon the land of their shame, and may they 
turn their faces towards their Father's house! Father 
of spirits, fetch home Thy wandering ones now. Call 
them by Thy love. Woo them by Thy mercy. Bring 
them by Thy power. Let the joyful chorus be, "This 
Thy son was dead, and is alive again; was lost and is 
found!" 



THE PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE. 

By T. DE WITT TALMAGE. 

There is nothing like hunger to take the energy oui 
of a man. A hungry man can toil neither with p© 
nor hand nor foot. There has been many an army de 
feated not so much for lack of ammunition as for lack 
of bread. It was that fact that took the fire out of this 
young man of the parable. Storm and exposure will 
wear out any maa's life in time, but hunger makes 
quick work. The most awful cry ever heard on earth 
is the cry for bread. 1| 

A traveler tells us that in Asia Minor there are trees 
which bear fruit looking very much like the long bean 
of our time. It is called the carob. Once in a while 
the people, reduced to destitution, would eat these 
carobs, but generally the carobs spoken of in this story 
were thrown only to the swine, and they crunched them 
with great avidity. But this young man could not 
even get these without stealing them. So one day, amid 
the swine troughs, he begins to soliloquize. He says: 

'* These are no clothes for a rich man's son to wear. 
This is no kind of business for me to be engaged in, j 
feeding swine. I'll go home; I'll go home. I will arise 
and go to my father." 

I know there are a great many people who try to 
throw a fascination, a romance, a halo about sin; but 

80 



THE PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE 81 

notwithstanding all that Lord Byron and George Sand 
have said in regard to it, it is a mean, low, contemptible 
business; and putting food and fodder into the troughs 
of a herd of iniquities that root and wallow in the soul 
of man is a very poor business for men and women in- 
tended to be sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty; 
and when this young man resolved to go home, it was a 
very wise thing for him to do, and the only question is 
whether we will follov/ him. 

Satan promises large wages if we will serve him; but 
he clothes his victims with rags, and he pinches them 
with hunger, and when they start out to do better he 
sets after them all the bloodhounds of hell. Satan 
comes to us to-day and he promises all luxuries and 
emoluments if we will only serve him. Liar, down with 
thee to the pit! " The wages of sin is death." Oh! the 
young man of the text was wise when he uttered the 
resolution, " I will arise and go to my father." 

In the time of Mary, the persecutor, a persecutor 
came to a Christian woman who had hidden in her 
house for the Lord's sake one of Christ's servants, and 
the persecutor said: 

"Where is that heretic?" 

The Christian woman said: " You open that trunk 
and you will see the heretic." 

The persecutor opened the trunk, and on top of the 
linen in the trunk he saw a glass. 

He said: " There is no heretic here." 

"Ah!" she said, " you look in the glass and you will 
see the heretic." 

As I take up the mirror of God's Word, I would that, 



82 THE PRODIGAL 



instead of seeing the prodigal of the text, we might see 
ourselves — our want, our wandering, our sin, our lost 
condition, so that we might be as wise as this younii 
man was, and say: " I will arise and go to my Father." 
The resolution of this text was formed in 

DISGUST AT HIS PRESENT CIRCUMSTANCES. 

If this young man had been, by his employer, set to cul- 
turing flowers, or training vines over an arbor, or keep- 
ing account of the pork market, or overseeing other 
laborers, he would not have thought of going home; if 
he had had his pockets full of money, if he had been 
able to say, 

" I have a thousand dollars now of my own; what's 
the use of my going back to my father's house? Do 
you think I'm going back to apologize to the old man? 
Why, he would put me on the limits. He would not 
have going on around the old place such conduct as I 
have been engaged in. I won't go hcmie. I have 
plenty of money, plenty of pleasant surroundings. 
Why should I go home ? " 

Ah! it was his pauperism, it was his beggary. He] 
had to go home. 

Some man comes and says to me: " Why do you talkj 
about the ruined state of the human soul? Why don't] 
you speak about the progress of the nineteenth century,' 
and talk of something more exhilarating? " 

It is for this reason: A man never wants the gospel 
until he realizes he is in a famine-struck state. 

Supi^ose I should come to your home, and you are 
good, sound, robust health, and I should begin to tall 
about medicines, and about how much better this medi-i 



THF PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE 83 

cine is than that, and some other medicine than some 
other medicine, and talk about this physician and that 
physician. After awhile you would get tired, and you 
would say : 

" I don't want to hear about medicines. Why do you 
talk to me about physicians? I never have a doctor." 

But suppose I come into your house and find you 
severely sick, and I know the medicines that will cure 
you, and I know the physician who is skilful enough to 
meet your case. You say: 

*' Bring on all that medicine, bring on that physician. 
I am terribly sick, and I want help." 

If I come to you and you feel you are all right in 
body, and all right in mind, and all tight in soul, you 
have need of nothing; but suppose I have persuaded 
you that the leprosy of sin is upon you, 

THE WOEST OF ALL SICKNESS. 

Oh! then you say: " Bring me that balm of the gospel, 
bring me that divine medicament, bring me Jesus 
Christ." 

" But," says someone, " how do you know that we are 
in a condition ruined by sin? " 

Well, I can prove it in two ways, and you may have 
your choice. I can prove it either by the statement of 
men, or by the statement of God. Which shall it be? 

You say, '* Let us have the statement of God." 

Well, He says in one place, " The heart is deceitful 
above all things and desperately wicked." He says in 
another place, "What is man that he should be clean? 
and he which is born of a woman, that he should be 
righteous? " He says in another place, " There is none 



84: THE PRODIGAL 



that doeth good — no, not one." He says in another 
place, " As by one man sin entered into the world, and 
death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, for that 
all have sinned." 

"Well," you say, " I am willing to acknowledge that; 
but why should I take the particular rescue that you 
propose?" 

This is the reason: " Except a man be born again, he 
cannot see the kingdom of God." This is the reason : 
there is one name given under heaven among men. 
whereby they may be saved. 

Then there are a thousand voices ready to say: " Well, 
I am ready to accept this help of the gos^Dcl. I would 
like to have this divine cure. How shall I go to work?'' 

Let me say that a mere whim, an undefined longiuLC 
amounts to nothing. You must have a stout, a tremen- 
dous resolution like this young man of the text when he 
said: " I will arise and go to my father." 

" Oh," says some young man, " how do I know my 
father wants me? how do I know, if I go back, I would 
be received?" 

"Oh," says some young man, " you don't know when- 
I have been. You don't know how far I have wandered. 
You wouldn't talk that way to me if you knew all the 
iniquities I have committed." 

What is that flutter among the angels of God? What 
is that horseman running with quick dispatch? It isj 
news, it is news! Christ has found the lost! 

Nor angels can their joy contain, 
. But kindle with new fire. 
"The sinner lost is found," they sing, 
And strike the sounding lyre. 



THE PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE 8S 

When Napoleon talked of going into Italy, they said: 

"You can't get there. If you knew what the Alps 
were, you wouldn't talk about it or think about it. You 
can't get your ammunition=wagons over the Alps." 

Then Napoleon rose in his stirrups, and, waving his 
hand toward the mountains, he said, 

" There shall be no Alps! " 

That wonderful pass was laid out, which has been the 
wonderment of all the years since — the wonderment of 
all engineers. And you tell me there are such moun- 
tains of sin between your soul and God, there is no mer- 
cy? Then I see Christ waving His hand toward the 
mountains. I hear Him say: 

" I will come over the mountains of thy sin and the 
hills of thine iniquity." 

There shall be no Pyrenees; there shall be no Alps. 

Again : I notice that this resolution of the young man 
of my text was founded in sorrow at his misbehavior. 
It was not mere physical plight. It was grief that he 
had so 

MALTREATED HIS FATHER. 

It is a sad thing after a father has done everything for 
a child to have that child ungrateful. 

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is. 
To have a thankless child. 

That is Shakspere. 

" A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother." That 
is the Bible. 

Well, my friends, have not some of us been cruel 

prodigals? Have you not maltreated our Father? And 

such a Father! Three times a day He fed thee. He 



86 THE PRODIGAL 



has poured sunlight into thy day and at night kindled 
up all the street lamias of heaven. With what varieties 
of apjjarel He hath clothed thee for the season! Whose 
eye watches thee? Whose hand defends thee? Whose 
heart sympathizes with thee? Who gave you your 
children? Who is guarding your loved ones dei^arted? 
Such a Father! So loving, so kind. If he had been a 
stranger; if He had forsaken us; if He had flagellated 
us; if He had pounded us and turned us out of doors on 
the commons, it would not have been so wonderful — our 
treatment of Him; but He is a Father, so loving, so 
kind, and yet how many of us for our wanderings have 
never apologized! If we say anything that hurts our 
friend's feelings, if we do anything that hurts the feel- 
ings of those in whom we are interested, how quickly we 
apologize! We can scarcely wait until we get pen and 
paper to write a letter of apology. How easy it is for 
anyone who is intelligent, right^hearted, to write an 
apology, or make an apology! We apologize for wrongs 
done to our fellows; but some of us i^erhaps have com- 
mitted ten thousand times ten thousand wrongs against 
God, and never apologized. 

I remark still further, that this resolution of the text 
was founded in a feeling of 

HOMESICKNESS. 

I do not know how long this young man, how many 
months, how many years, he had been away from his 
father's house, but there is something about the reading 
of my text that makes me think he was homesick. 
Some of my readers know what that feeling is. Far 



THE PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE 87 

away from home sometimes, surrounded by everything 
bright and pleasant — plenty of friends — you have said : 

" I would give the world to be home to=night." 

Well, this young man was homesick for his father's 
house. I have no doubt when he thought of his fath- 
er's house he said: 

" Now, perhaps father may not be living." 

We read nothing in this story — this parable— founded 
on everyday4ife — we read nothing about the mother. 
It says nothing about going home to her. I think she 
was dead. I think she had died of a broken heart at his 
wanderings, or, perhaps he had gone into dissipation 
from the fact that he could not remember a loving and 
sympathetic mother. A man never gets over having 
lost his mother. Nothing said about her, but he is 
homesick for his father's house. He thought he would 
just like to go and see if things were as they used to be. 
Many a man after having been off a long while has 
gone home and knocked at the door, and a stranger has 
come. It is the old homestead, but a stranger comes to 
the door. . He finds out father is gone, and mother is 
gone; and brothers and sisters all gone. I think this 
young man of the text said to himself: 

" Perhaps father may be dead." 

Still he starts to find out. He is homesick. Are 
there any readers of mine homesick for Grod, homesick 
for heaven? 

A sailor, after having been long on the sea, returned 
to his father's house, and his mother tried to persuade 
him not to go away again. She said: 



88 THE PRODIGAL 



"Now, you had better stay at home. Don't go away. 
We don't want you to go. You will have it a great deal 
better here." 

But it made him angry. The night before he went 
away again to sea he heard his mother praying in the 
next room, and that made him more angry. He went 
far out on the sea, and a storm came \\\}, and he was 
ordered to very i^erilous duty, and he ran up the ratlines, 
and amid the shrouds of the ship he heard the voice 
that he had heard in the next room. He tried to whistle, 
he tried to rally his courage; but he could not silence the 
voice he had heard in the next room, and there in the 
storm and darkness he said : 

"O, Lord! what a wretch I have been! What a 
wretch I am! Helj) me just now, Lord God." 

And I thought among my readers there may be some 
who have the memory of a father's petition or a mother's 
prayer pressing mightily upon their soul, and that this 
hour they may make the same resolution I find in my 
text, saying: 

"I will arise and go to my father." 

A lad at Liverpool went out to bathe in the sea, w^ent 
out too far, got beyond his depth, and he floated off. A 
ship bound for Dublin came along, and took him on 
board. Sailors are generally very generous fellows, and 
one gave him a jacket, and another gave him shoes. A 
gentleman passing along the beach at Liverpool found 
the lad's clothes, and took them home, and the father 
was heartbroken, the mother was heartbroken, at the loss 
of their child They had heard nothing from him day 
after day, and they ordered the usual mourning for the 



THE PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE 89 

sad event. But the lad took ship from Dublin and ar- 
rived in Liverpool the very day the mourning arrived. 
He knocked at the door. The father was overjoyed, and 
the mother overjoyed, at the return of their lost son. 

Oh, my friends, have you waded out too deep? Have 
you waded down into sin? Have you waded from the 
shore? Will you come back? When you come back, 
will you come in the rags of your sin, or will you come 
robed in the Savior's righteousness? I believe the 
latter. Go home to your God to-day. He is waiting 
for you. Go home! 

But I remark, the next characteristic of this resolution 
was, it was 

IMMEDIATELY PUT INTO EXECUTION. 

The context says, " He arose and came to his father." 

The trouble in the nine hundred and ninty^nine times 
out of a thousand is that our resolutions amount to noth- 
ing, because we make them for some distant time. If I 
resolve to become a Christian next year, that amounts to 
nothing at all. If I resolve to become a Christian to^ 
morrow,' that amounts to nothing at all. If I resolve 
this day to become a Christian, that amounts to nothing 
at all. If I resolve after I go home to=day to yield 
my heart to God, that amounts to nothing at all. 
The only kind of resolution that amounts to anything is 
the resolution that is immedately put into execution. 

There is a man who had the typhoid fever, and he 
said: "Oh! if I could get over this terrible distress; if 
this fever should depart; if I could be restored to health, 
I would all the rest of my life serve God." 

The fever departed. He got well enough to walk 



90 THE PRODIGAL 



around the block. He got well enough to go over to 
business. He is well to-day — as well as he ever was. 
Where is the broken vow? 

There is a man who said, long ago: " If I could live to 
the year 1897, by that time I will have my business mat- 
ters all arranged, and I will have time to attend to relig- 
ion, and I will be a good, thorough, Christian." The 
year 1897 has come. January, February, March,— a 
fourth of the year gone. Where is that broken vow? 

" Oh," says some man, " I'll attend to -that when I get 
my character fixed up, when I can get over my evil 
habits. I am now given to strong drink"; or, says the 
man, " I am given to uncleanness " or, says the man, 
" I am given to dishonesty. When I get over my 
present habits, then I'll be a thorough Christian." 

My brother, you will get worse and worse until Christ 
takes you in hand. " Not the righteous, sinners Jesus 
came to call." 

Oh, but you say, " I agree with you in all that, bat I 
must put it off a little longer." 

Do you know there were many who came just as near 
as you are to the kingdom of God and never entered it? 

I was at Easthamj)ton, and I went into the cemetery 
to look around, and in that cemetery there are twelve 
graves side by side — the graves of sailors. This crew, 
some years ago, in a ship, w^ent into the breakers at 
Amagansett, about three miles away. My brother, then 
preaching at Easthampton, had been at the burial. 
These men of the crew came very near being saved. 
The peoi)le from Amagansett saw the vessel, and they 
shot rockets, and they sent ropes from the shore, and 



I 



THE PRODIGAVS RESOLVE 91 

these poor fellows got into the boat, and they pulled 
mightily for the shore, but just before they got to the 
shore the rope snapped, and the boat capsized, and they 
were lost, their bodies afterwards being washed upon 
the beach. Oh! what a solemn day it was — I have been 
told of it by my brother — when these twelve men lay at 
the foot of the pulpit, and he read over them the funeral- 
service. They came very near the shore — within 
shouting distance of the shore, yet did not arrive on 
solid land. 

There are some men who come almost to the shore of 
God's mercy, but not quite. To be almost saved is to 
be lost! 

I will tell you of two prodigals — the one who got back 
and the other who did not get back. 

In Richmond, Va., there is a very prosperous and beau- 
tiful home in many respects. A young man wandered off 
from that home. He wandered very far into sin. They 
heard of him after, but he was always on the wrong 
track. He would not go home. At the door of that 
beautiful home one night there was a great outcry. The 
young man of the house ran down to open the door, to 
see what was the matter. It was midnight. The rest of 
the family were asleep. There were the wife and chil- 
dren of this prodigal young man. The fact was he had 
come home and driven them out. He said: 

"Out of this house! Away with these children! I 
will dash their brains out. Out into the storm !" 

The mother gathered them up and fled. 

The next morning the brother, the young man who 
had staid at home, went out to find this prodigal brother 



92 THE PRODIGAL 



and son, and he came where he was, and saw the youn^ 
man wandering up and down in front of the place where 
he had been staying. The young man who had kept 
his integrity said to the older brother: 

" Here, what does all this mean? What is the matter 
with you? Why do you act in this way? " 

The prodigal looked at him and said: *' Who am I 
Who do you take me to be? " 

He said, " You are my brother." ' 

*' No, I am not. I am a brute. Have you seen any 
thing of my wife and children? Are they dead? I 
drove them out last night in the storm. I am a brute 
John, do you think there is any help for me? Do you 
think I will ever get over this life of dissipation?" 
He added: "John, there is one thing that will stop! 
this." ' 

The prodigal ran his fingers across his throat, and 
said: "That will stop it, and I will stop it before night. 
Oh, my brain! I can stand it no longer." 

That prodigal never got home. But I will tell you of 
another prodigal that did get home. 

In England two young men started from their father's 
house and went down to Portsmouth — I have been there 
— a beautiful s eaport. The father could not pursue his 
children — for some reason he could not leave home — 
and so he wrote a letter to Mr. Griffin, saying: 

" Mr. Griffin, I wish you would go and see my two 
sons. They have arrived in Portsmouth, and they are 
going to take ship and are going away from home. I 
wish you would persuade them to come back." 

Mr. Griffin went and tried to persuade them to re- 



I 



THE PRODIGAL'S RESOLVE 93 

turn. He succeeded with one. He went with very easy 
persuasion, because he was very homesick already. 

The other young man said: "I will not go. I have 
had enough of home. I'll never go home." 

" Well," said Mr. Griffin, " then if you won't go home, 
I'll get you a respectable position on a respectable 
ship." 

"No, you won't," said the prodigal. " No, you won't. 
I'm going as h common sailor; that will plague my 
father most and what will do most to tantalize and 
worry him will please me best." 

Years passed on, and Mr. Griffin was seated m Ins 
study one day when a messenger came to him, saying 
there was a young man in irons on a ship at the dock, 
condemned to death, and he wished to see this clergy- 
man. Mr. Griffin went down to the dock and went on 
shipboard. 

The young man said to him: " You don't know me, 
do you?" 

" No," said he, " I don't know you." 

" Don't you remember that young man you tried to 
persuade to go home, and he wouldn't go? " 

" Oh, yes," said Mr. Griffin, " are you that man? " 

" Yes, I am that man," said the other. " I would like 
to have you pray for me. I have committed murder, 
and I must die; but I don't want to go out of this world 
until some one prays for me. You are my father's 
friend, and I would like to have you pray for me." 

Mr. Griffin went from judicial authority to judicial 
authority to get that young man's pardon. He slept 
not night or day. He went from influential person to 



94: THE PRODIGAL 



influential person, until in some way he got that younp: 
man's pardon. He came down on the dock, and as he 
arrived with the pardon, the father came. He had heard 
that his son, under a disguised name, had committed a 
crime, and was going to be put to death. So Mr. Grif- 
fin and the father went on the ship's deck, and at the 
very moment Mr. Griffin offered the pardon to the young 
man the old father threw his arms around his son's 
neck. 

The son said: " Father, I have done very wrong, and 
I am very sorry. I wish I had never broken your heart. 
I am very sorry." 

"Oh," said the father, "don't mention it! It won't 
make any difference now. It is all over. I forgive you, 
my son," and he kissed him and kissed him and kissed 
him. 

Now, I offer you the pardon of the gospel — full par-l 
don, free pardon. I do not care what your crime has 
been. Though you say you have committed a crime 
against God, against your ow^n soul, against your fellow^ 
men. against your family, against the day of judgment, 
against the cross of Christ — whatever your crime has 
been, here is pardon, full pardon; and the very moment 
you take that pardon, your Heavenly Father throws His 
arms round about you and says: 

" My son, I forgive you. It is all right. You are as 
much in my favor now as if you had never sinned." 

Oh, there is joy on earth and joy in heaven! Who 
will take the Father's embrace? 



\ 



THE TURNING POINT. 

By C. H. SPURGEON. 

"And he arose, and came to his father." 
This -sentence expresses the true turning point in the 
prodigal's life story. Many other matters led up to it, 
and before he came to it there was much in him that was 
very hopeful; but this was the point itself, and had he 
never reached it he would have remained a prodigal, but 
would never have been the prodigal restored, and his life 
would have been a warning rather than instruction to us. 
" He arose, and came to his father." 

I. HEEE WAS ACTION. 

"He arose, and came to Ms father.^ He had already 
been in a state of though tfulness; he had come to him- 
self , but now he was to go further, and come to his 
father. He had considered the past, and weighed it up, 
and seen the hollowness of all the world's pleasures; he 
had seen his condition in reference to his father, and his 
prospects if he remained in the far-ofip country; he had 
thought upon what he ought to do, and what would be 
the probable result of such a course ; but now he passed 
beyond the dreaminess of thought into matter-of-fact 
acting and doing. 

How long will it be, dear reader, before you will do 
the same? We are glad to have you thoughtful; we 
hope that a great point is gained when you are led to 

95 



96 THE PRODIGAL 



consider your ways, to ponder your condition, and to 
look earnestly into the future, for thoughtlessness is the 
ruin of many a traveller to eternity, and by its means 
the unwary fall into the deep pit of carnal security and 
perish therein. But some of you have been among the 
"thoughtful" quite long enough; it is time you jjassed 
into a more practical stage. It is high time that you 
came to action. It would have been better if you had act- 
ed already ; for, in the matter of reconciliation to God, first 
thoughts are best. When a man's life hangs on a thread, 
and hell is just before him, his path is clear, and a sec- 
ond thought is suxDerfluous. The first impulse to escape 
from danger and lay hold on Christ is that which you 
would be wise to follow. Some of you whom I now ad- 
dress .have been thinking, and thinking, and thinking, 
till I fear you will think yourselves into perdition. May 
you, by divine grace, be turned from thinking to be- 
lieving, or else your thoughts will become the undying 
worm of your torment. 

The prodigal had also passed beyond mere regret. 
He was deeply grieved that he had left his father's 
house. He lamented his lavish expenditure upon wan^ 
tonness and revelling. He mourned that the son of such 
a father should be degraded into a swineherd in a foreign 
land. But he now proceeded from regret to repentance, 
and bestirred himself to escape from the condition over 
which he mourned. 

What is the use of regret if we continue in sin? By 
all means pull up the sluices of your grief if the floods 
will turn the wheel of action, but you may as well re- 
serv^e your tears, if they mean no more tliau idle p«'!iti- 



% 



THE TURNING POINT 97 

mentalism. What avails it for a man to say he repents 
of his misconduct if he still perseveres in it? We are 
glad when sinners regret their sin and mourn the condi- 
tion into which sin has brought them, but if they go no 
further, their regrets will only prepare them for eternal 
remorse. Had the prodigal become inactive through 
despondency, or stolid through sullen grief, he must have 
perished, far away from his father's home, as it is to be 
feared many will whose sorrow for sin leads them into 
a proud unbelief and wilful despair of God's love ; but 
he was wise, for he shook off the drowsiness of his de- 
spondency, and, with resolute determination, "arose and 
came to his father." Oh, when will you sad ones be wise 
enough to do the same? When will your thinking and 
your sorrowing give place to practical obedience to th« 
gospel? 

The prodigal also pressed beyond mere resolving. 
That is a sweet verse which says, "I will arise," but that 
is far better which says, "And he arose." Resolves are 
good, like blossoms; but actions are better, for they are 
the fruits. We are glad to hear from you the resolu- 
tion, " I will turn to God," but holy angels in heaven do 
not rejoice over resolutions, they reserve their music for 
sinners who actually repent. 

Many like the son in the parable have said, " I go, sir," 
but they have not gone. They are as ready at forgetting 
as they are at resolving. Every earnest sermon, every 
death in their family, every funeral knell for a neighbor, 
every pricking of conscience, every touch of sickness, 
sets them resolving to amend, but their promissory notes 
are never honored, their repentance ends in words. Their 



THE PRODIGAL 



goodness is as the dew, which at early dawn hangs each 
blade of grass with gems, but leaves the fields all parched 
and dry when the sun's burning heat is poured upon the 
pasture. They mock their friends and trifle with their 
own souls. 

Have you not dallied long enough? Have you not 
lied unto God sufficiently? Should you not now give 
over resolving and proceed to the solemn business of 
your souls like men of common sense? You are in a 
sinking vessel, and the life=boat is near, but your mere 
resolve to enter it will not prevent your going down with 
the sinking craft. As sure as you are a living man, you 
will drown unless you take the actual leajp for life. 

" He arose and came to his father." Now, observe that 
iMs action of the prodigal was immediate, and without 
further parley. He did not go back to the citizen of 
that country and say: 

" Will you raise my wages? If not, I must leave." 

Had he parleyed he had been lost; but he gave his old 
master no notice; he cancelled his indentures by running 
away. 

I would -that every sinner who reads this would break 
their league with death and violate their covenant with 
with hell, by escaping for their lives to Jesus, who re- 
ceives all such runaways. We want neither leave nor li- 
cense for quitting the service of sin and Satan, neither 
is it a subject which demands a month's consideration: 
in this matter instantaneous action is the surest wisdom 
Lot did not stop to consult the king of Sodom as to 
whether he might quit his dominions, neither did he 
consult the parish officers as to the propriety of speeilily 



THE TURNING POINT 99 

deserting his home ; but with the angel's hand pressing 
them, he and his fled from the city, Nay, one fled not; 
she looked and lingered, and that lingering cost her her 
life ! That pillar of salt is the eloquent monitor to us to 
avoid delays when we are bidden to flee for our lives. 
Sinner, dost thou wish to be a pillar of salt? Wilt thou 
halt between two opinions, until God's anger shall doom 
thee to final impenitence? Wilt thou trifle with mercy 
till justice smite thee? Up, man, and while thy day of 
grace continues, fly thou into the arms of love! 

The text implies that the prodigal aroused himself, 
and put forth all his energies. It is said, " he arose.''^ 
He had till then been asleep upon the bed of sloth, or 
the couch of presumption. 

Men are not saved between ^sleeping and waking. 
" The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the vi- 
olent take it by force." Grace does not stupefy us, it 
but arouses us. Surely, it is worth while making an 
awful effort to escape from eternal wrath. It is worth 
while summoning up every faculty and power and emo- 
tion and passion of your being, and saying to yourself, 

"I cannot be lost; I will not be lost; I am resolved 
that I will find mercy through Jesus Christ." 

The worst of it is, O sinners, ye are so sluggish, so indif- 
ferent, so ready to let things happen as they may. Sin has 
bewitched and benumbed you. You sleep as on beds of 
down and forget that you are in danger of hell fire. 
You cry, "A little more rest, and a little more slumber, 
and a little more folding of the arms to sleep," and so 
you sleep on, though your damnation slumbereth not. 
Would to God you could be awakened! It is not in the 



100 THE PRODIGAL 



power of my words to arouse you; but may the Lord 
Himself alarm you, for never were men more in danger. 
Let but your breath fail, or your blood pause, and you 
are lost forever. Frailer than a cobweb is that life on 
which your eternal destiny depends. If you were wise, 
you would not give sleep to your eyes nor slumber to 
your eyelids till you had found your God and been for- 
given. Oh, when will you come to a real action? How 
long will it be ere you believe in Jesus? How long will 
you sport between the jaws of hell? How long dare 
you provoke the living God? 
II. Secondly, 

HERE WAS A SOUL COMING INTO ACTUAL CONTACT WITH 

GOD,— 

"He arose and came to his father. ^^ It would have 
been of no avail for him to have arisen if he had not 
come to his father. This is what the sinner has to do, 
and what the Spirit enables him to do: namely, to come 
straight away to his God. It will be a grand day for 
you, O sinner, when you do the same. Go personally, 
directly, and at once to God in Christ Jesus. 

Alas! there are many anxious souls who look to them- 
selves. They sit down and cry, 

"I want to repent; I want to feel my need; I want to 
be humble." 

O man, get up! What are you at? Leave yourself 
and go to your father. 

" Oh, but I have so little hope; my faith is very weak, 
and I am full of fears." 

What matter your hopes or your fears while you are 
away from your Father? Your salvation does not lie 



THE TURNING POINT 101 

within yourself, but in the Lord's good will to you. 
You will never be at peace till, leaving all your doubts 
and your hopes, you come to your God and rest in His 
bosom. 

"Oh, but I want to conquer my propensities to sin, I 
want to master my strong temptations." 

I know what it is you want. You want the best robe 
without your Father's giving it to you, and shoes on 
your feet of your own procuring, You do not like go- 
ing in a beggar's suit and receiving all from the Lord's 
loving hand. But this pride of yours must be given up, 
and you must get away to God, or perish forever. You 
must forget yourself, or only remember yourself so as to 
feel that you are bad throughout, and no more worthy 
to be called God's son. Give yourself up as a sinking 
vessel that is not worth pumping, but must be left to go 
down, and get you into the life-boat of free grace. 
Think of God your Father, and of His dear Son, the 
one Mediator and Redeemer of the sons of men. There 
is your hope — to fly away from self and to reach your 
Father. 

Sinner, your business is with God. Hasten to Him 
at once. You have nothing to do with yourself, or your 
own doings, or what others can do for you. The turn- 
ing point of salvation is, " he arose and came to his 
father." There must be a real, living, earnest, contact 
of your poor guilty soul with God, a recognition that 
there is a God, and that God can be spoken to, and an 
actual speech of your soul to Him through Jesus Christ, 
for it is only God in Christ Jesus that is accessible at 
all. Going thus to God, we tell Him that we are all 



102 THE PRODIGAL 



wrong, and want to be set right; we tell Him we wish to 
be reconciled to Him, and are ashamed that we should 
have sinned against Him; we then \n\i our trust in His 
Son, and we are saved. O soul, go to God: it matters 
not though the prayer you come with may be a very 
broken prayer, or even if it has mistakes in it, as the 
prodigal's prayer had when he said, " Make me as one 
of thy hired servants"; the language of the prayer will 
not signify so long as you really approach to God. 
" Him that cometh to me," says Jesus, " I will in no 
wise cast out " ; and Jesus ever liveth to make interces- 
sion for them that come to God through Him. 
III. Now, thirdly, 

IN THAT ACTION THERE WAS AN ENTIRE YIELDING UP 
OF HIMSELF. 

In the prodigal's case, his proud independence and self- 
will were gone. In other days he demanded his por- 
tion, and resolved to spend it as he pleased; but now he m 
is willing to be as much under rule as a hired servant. 
He has had enough of being his own master, and is 
weary of the distance from God which self-will always 
creates. He longs to get into a child's true place, 
namely, that of dependence and loving submission. 
The great mischief of all was his distance from his 
father, and he now feels it to be so. His great thought 
is to remove that distance by humbly returning, for 
then he feels that all other ills will come to an end. 
He yields up his cherished freedom, his boasted inde- 
pendence, his liberty to think and do and say whatever 
he chose, and he longs to come under loving rule and 
wise guidance. 



THE TURNING POINT 103 

Sinner, are you ready for this? If so, come and wel- 
come; your heavenly Father longs to press you to His 
bosom ! 

He gave up all idea of self - justification, for he said, 
" I have sinned.'''^ 

Before he would have said, " I have a right to do as I 
like with my own. Who is to dictate how I shall spend 
my own money? If I do sow a few wild oats, every 
young man does the same. I have been very generous, 
if nothing else; nobody can call me greedy. I am no 
hypocrite." 

But now the prodigal boasts no longer. Not a syllable 
of self-praise falls from his lips; he mournfully con- 
fesses, " I have sinned against heaven and before thee." 

Sinner, if you would be saved, you also must come 
down from your high places, and acknowledge your 
iniquity. Confess that you have done wrong, and do 
not try to extenuate your offence; do not offer apologies 
and make your case better than it is, but humbly plead 
guilty and leave your soul in Jesus' hands. Of two 
things, to sin or to deny the sin, probably to deny the 
sin is the worse of the two, and shows a blacker heart. 

Acknowledge your fault, man, and tell your heavenly 
Father that if it were not for His mercy you would have 
been in hell, and that as it is you richly deserve to be 
there even now. Make your case rather blacker than it 
is, if you can; this I say because I know you cannot do 
any such thing. When a man is in the hospital it 
cannot be of any service to him to pretend to be better 
than he is; he will not receive any more medical atten- 
tion on that account, but rather the other way, for the 



104 THE PRODIGAL 



worse his case the more likely is the physician to give 
him special notice. Oh, sinner, lay bare before God thy 
sores, thy putrifying sores of sin, the horrid ulcers of 
thy deep depravity, and cry, " O Lord, have mercy upon 
me!" This is the way of wisdom. Have done with 
pride and self^righteousness, and make thy appeal to 
the undeserved pity of the Lord, and thou wilt speed. 

The penitent also yielded up all his supposed rights 
and claims upon his father, saying, 

" I am not worthy to be called thy son." 

He might have said, " I have sinned, but still I am 
thy child," and most of us would have thought it a very 
justifiable argument; but he does not say so, he is too 
humble for that. He owns, "I am no more worthy to 
be called thy son." 

A sinner is really broken down when he acknowledges 
that if God would have no mercy on him, but cast him 
away for ever, it would be no more than justice. That 
soul is not far from peace which has ceased arguing and 
submits to the sentence. Oh, sinner, I urge thee, if 
thou wouldst find speedy rest, go and throw thyself at 
the foot of the cross where God meets such as thou art, 
and say, 

" Lord, here I am ; do what thou wilt with me. Never 
a word of excuse will 1 offer, nor one single plea by way 
of extenuation. I am a mass of guilt and misery, but 
pity me, oh, pity me! No rights or claims have I. I 
have forfeited the rights of creatureship by becoming a 
rebel against Thee. I am lost and utterly undone before 
the bar of Thy justice. From that justice I flee and hide 
myself in the wounds of Thy Son. According to the 



THE TURNING POINT 105 

multitude of Thy tender mercies, blot out my transgres- 
sions!" 

IV. Notice further, and fourthly, that 

IN THIS ACT THERE WAS A MEASURE OF FAITH IN HIS 

FATHER 

— a measure, I say, meaning thereby not much faith, but 
some. A little faith saves the soul. 

There was faith in his father's power. He said, " In 
my father's house there is bread enough and to spare." 

Sinner, dost thou not believe that God is able to save 
thee ; that through Jesus Christ He is able to supply thy 
soul's needs? Canst thou not get as far as this, " Lord, 
if thou wilt thou canst make me clean "? 

The prodigal had also some faith in his father's 
readiness to pardon; for if he had not so hoped, he 
would never have returned to his father at all; if he had 
been sure that his father would never smile upon him, 
he would never have returned to him. 

Sinner, do believe that God is merciful, for so He is. 
Believe, through Jesus Christ, that He willeth not the 
death of the sinner, but had rather that he should turn 
to Him and live; for as surely as God liveth, this is 
truth, and do not thou believe a lie concerning thy God. 
The Lord is not hard or harsh, but He rejoices to pardon 
great transgressions. 

Ah, poor sinner, dost thou not believe that God will 
have mercy on thee if He can do so consistently with 
His justice? If thou believest that, I have good news to 
tell thee. Jesus Christ, His Son, has offered such an 
atonement that God can be just, and yet the justifier of 
him that believe th, He has mercy upon the vilest, and 



106 THE PRODIGAL 



justifietli the ungodly, and accepteth the very chief of 
sinners through His dear Son. Oh, soul, have faith in 
the atonement! The atonement made by the personal 
sacrifice of the Son of God must be infinitely precious; 
believe thou that there is efficacy enough in it for thee. 
It is thy safety to fly to that atonement and cling to tht 
cross of Christ, and thou wilt honor God by so doing. 
It is the only way in which thou canst honor Him. 
Thou canst honor Him by believing that He can save 
thee, even thee. The truest faith is that which believes 
in the mercy of God in the teeth of conscious unworthi- 
ness. The penitent in the parable went to his father 
too unworthy to be called his son, and yet he said, " My 
father." Faith has a way of seeing the blackness of sin, 
and yet believing that God can make the soul as white 
as snow. It is not faith that says, " I am a little sinner, 
and therefore God can forgive me"; but that is faith 
which cries, " I am a great sinner, an accursed and 
condemned sinner, and yet, for all that, God's infinite 
mercy can forgive me, and the blood of Christ can make 
me clean." 

Believe in the teeth of thy feelings, and in si^ite of 
thy conscience. Believe in God, though everythini: 
within thee seems to say, "He cannot save thee. IL 
will not save thee." Believe in God, sinner, over the 
tops of mountain sins. Do as John Bunyan says he did, 
for he was so afraid of his sins and of the punishment 
thereof, that he could not but run into God's arms, and 
he said, 

" Though He had held a drawn sword in His hands, I 



THE TURNING POINT 107 

would have run on the very point of it rather than have 
kept away from Him." So do thou, poor sinner. 

Believe thy God. Believe in nothing else, but trust 
thy God, and thou wilt get the blessing. 

It is wonderful the power of faith over God. It binds 
His justice and constrains His grace. I do not know 
how to illustrate it better than by a little story. When 
I walked down my garden some time ago I found a dog 
amusing himself among the flowers. I knew that he 
was not a good gardener, and no dog of mine, so I threw 
a stick at him and bade him begone. After I had done 
so, he conquered me, and made me ashamed of having 
spoken roughly to him, for he X3icked up my stick, and, 
wagging his tail right pleasantly, he brought the stick 
to me and dropped it at my feet. Do you think I could 
strike him or drive him away after that? No, I patted 
him and called him good names. The dog had con- 
quered the man. And if you, poor sinner, dog as you 
are, can have confidence enough in God to come to Him 
just as you are, it is not in His heart to spurn you. 
There is an omnipotence in simple faith which will con- 
quer even the divine Being Himself. Only do but trust 
Him as He reveals Himself in Jesus, and you shall find 
salvation. 

V. In the next place, 

THIS ACT OP COMING INTO CONTACT WITH GOD IS PER- 
FORMED BY THE SINNER JUST AS HE IS. 

I do not know how wretched the prodigal's appear- 
ance may have been, but I will be bound to say he had 
grown none the sweeter by having fed swine, nor do I 



108 THE PRObtGAt 



suppose his garments had been very sumptuously em- 
broidered by gathering husks for them from the trees. 
Yet, just as he was, he came. Surely he might have spent 
an hour profitably in cleansing his flesh and his clothes. 
But no, he said, " I will arise," and no sooner said than 
done! he did arise, and he came to his father. 

Every moment that a sinner stops away from God in 
order to get better he is but adding to his sin, for the 
radical sin of all is his being away from God, and the 
longer he stays in it the more he sins. The attempt to 
perform good works apart from God is like the effort of 
a thief to set his stolen goods in order. His sole duty is 
to return them at once. 

Moreover, there was nothing needed from the prodi- 
gal but to return to his father. When a child who has 
done wrong comes back, the more its face is blurred 
with tears the better. When a beggar asks for charity, 
the more his clothes are in rags the better. Are not 
rags and sores the very livery of beggars? I once gave 
a man a pair of shoes because he said he was in need of 
them; but after he had put them on and gone a little 
way I overtook him in a gateway taking them off in 
order to go barefooted again. I think they were patent 
leather, and what should a beggar do in such attire? 
He was changing them for old shoes, those that were 
suitable to his business. 

A sinner is never so well arrayed for pleading as when 
he comes in rags. At his worst, the sinner, for making 
an appeal to mercy, is at his best. And so, sinners, 
there is no need for you to linger; come just as you are. 

"But must we not wait for the Holy Spirit?" 



THE TURNING POINT 109 

Ah, beloved, lie who is willing to arise and go to his 
Father has the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit who 
moves us to return to God, and it is the spirit of the 
flesh or of the devil that would bid us wait. 

It is the turning point of a man's life when he calls 
on God for forgiveness and acceptance, wherever it is 
done, whether in a workshop, or in a saw-mill, in a 
church, or in a tabernacle; it does not matter where. 
There is the point — the getting to God in Christ, giving 
all up, and by faith resting in the mercy of God. 

VI. The last point of all is this: 

THAT ACT WEOUGHT THE GREATEST CONCEIVABLE CHANGE 
IN THE MAN. 

He was a new man after that. Harlots, winebibbers, 
you have lost your old companion now! He has gone 
to his father, and his father's company and yours will 
never agree. A man's return to his God means his 
leaving the chambers of vice and the tables of riot. You 
may depend upon it, whenever you hear of a professing 
Christian living in uncleanness, he has not been living 
anywhere near his God. He may have talked a great 
deal about it, but God and unchastity never agree. If 
you have friendship with God, you will have no fellow- 
ship with the unfruitful works of darkness. 

Now, too, the penitent has done with all degrading 
works to support himself . You will not find him feed- 
ing swine any more. He has got away from that bond- 
age. No more pig-f ceding for him! 

There is a change in him in all ways. Now he has 
come to his father his pride is broken down. He no 
longer glories in that which he calls his ownj ^X Ml 



no THE PRODIGAL 



glory is in his father's free pardoning love. He never 
boasts of what he has, for he owns that he has nothin^^ 
but what his father gives him; and though he is far 
better off than ever he was in his spendthrift days, yet 
he is as unassuming as a little child. He is a gentle- 
man commoner upon the bounty of his God, and lives 
from day to day by a royal grant from the table of the 
King of kings. Pride is gone, but content fills its room. 
He would have been contented to be one of the servants 
of the house, much more satisfied is he to be a child. 
He loves his father with a new love; he cannot even 
mention his name without saying: 

" And he forgave me, he forgave me freely, he for- 
gave me all, and he said, ' Bring forth the best robe and 
put it on him; put a ring on his hand and shoes on his 
feet.'" 

Perhaps you are saying. ■ ' May I now go to God just 
as I am, and through Jesus Christ yield myself up; and 
will He forgive me? " 

Dear brother, or dear sister, wherever you may be, 
try it. That is the best thing to do: trij it; and if the 
angels do not set the bells in heaven ringing, God lias 
altered from what He has been, for I know He received 
poor sinners in the past, and He will receive them now. 

The worst thing I dread about you is, lest you should 
say, " I will think of it." DonH think of it. Do it! 
Concerning this no more thinking is needed; but to do 
it. Get away to God. Is it not according to nature 
that the creature should be at peace with its Creator? 
Is it not according to your conscience? Is there not 
something within you which cries, *' Go to God in 



THE TURNING POINT 111 

Christ Jesus." In the case of that poor prodigal, the 
famine said to him, " Go home! " Bread was dear, 
meat was scarce, he was hungry, and every pang of 
want said, ''Go home! Go Jiome!^^ When he went 
to his old friend the citizen, and he asked him for 
help, his scowling looks said, " Why don't you go 
home?" There is a time with sinners when even 
their old companions seem to say, " We do not want 
you. You are too miserable and melancholy. Why 
don't you go home? " They sent him to feed swine, 
and the very hogs grunted, " Go home! " When he 
picked up those carob husks and tried to eat them, they 
crackled, " Go home.'''' He looked upon his rags, and they 
gaped at him, " Go home.'''' His hungry belly and his 
faintness cried, "Go home.''^ Then he thought of his 
father's face, and how kindly it had looked at him, and 
it seemed to say, " Come home! " He remembered the 
bread enough and to spare, and every morsel seemed to 
say, " Come home! " He pictured the servants sitting 
down to dinner and feasting to the full and every one 
of them seemed to look right away over the wilderness to 
him, and to say " Come home! Thy father feeds us well. 
Come home! " Everything said, " Come home!'''' Only 
the devil whispered, "Never go back. Fight it out! 
Better starve than yield! Die game!" But then he 
had got away from the devil this once, for he had come 
to himself, and he said: 

" No; I will arise and go to my father." 

Oh that you would be equally wise ! Sinner, what is 
the use of being damned for the sake of a little pride? 
Yield man! Down with your pride! You will not find 



112 THE PRODIGAL 



it so hard to submit if you remember that dear Father 
who loved us and gave Himself for us in the person of 
His own dear Son. You will find it sweet to yield to 
such a friend. And when you get your head in His 
bosom, and feel His warm kisses on your cheek, you will 
soon feel that it is sweet to weep for sin — sweet to con- 
fess your wrong doing, and sweeter still to hear Him 
say: 

" I have blotted out thy sins like a cloud, and like a 
thick cloud thy transgressions." " Though your sins be 
as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they 
be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." 

God Almighty grant this may be the case with hun- 
dreds who read this. He shall have all the glory of it, 
but my heart shall be very glad, for I feel nothing but 
the greatest conceivable joy at the thought of making 
merry with you by and by, when you come to own my 
Lord and Master, and we sit together at the sacramental 
feast, rejoicing in His love. God bless you, for His 
sake. Amen. 



THE RING FOR THE RETURNING 
PRODIGAL. 

ByT.DEWITT TALMAGE. 

I will not here rehearse the familiar story of the fast 
young man of the parable. You know what a splendid 
home he left. You know what a hard time he had. And 
you remember how, after that season of vagabondage and 
prodigality, he resolved to go and weep out his sorrows 
on the bosom of parental forgiveness. 

Well, there is great excitement one day in front of the 
door of the old farm-house. The servants come rushing 
up, and say: 

" What's the matter? What is the matter? " 

But before they quite arrive, the old man cries out: 

"Put a ring on his hand." 

What a seeming absurdity 1 What can such a wretch- 
ed mendicant as this fellow that is tramping on toward 
the house want with a ring? Oh, he is the prodigal son! 
No more tending of the swine- trough. No more longing 
for the pods of the carob tree. No more blistered feet. 
Off with the rags! On with the robe! Out with the 
ring! Even so does God receive every one of us when 
we come back. 

There are gold rings, and pearl rings, and emerald 
rings, and diamond rings ; but the richest ring that ever 

iia 



114 THE PRODIGAL 



flashed on the vision is that which our Father puts upon 
a forgiven soul. 

I know that the impression is abroad among some peo- 
ple that religion bemeans and belittles a man; that it 
takes all the sparkle out of his soul; that he has to ex- 
change a roistering independence for an ecclesiastical 
strait^jacket. Not so. When a man becomes a Chris- 
tian, he does not go down, he starts upward. Religion 
multiplies one by ten thousand. Nay, the multiplier is 
infinity. It is not a blotting out — it is a polishing, it 
is an arborescence, it is an efflorescence, it is an irradia- 
tion. When a man comes into the kingdom of God, he 
is not sent into a menial service, but the Lord God Al- 
mighty from the palaces of heaven calls upon the mes- 
senger angels that wait upon the throne to fly and " put 
a ring on his hand." In Christ are the largest liberty, 
and brightest joy, and highest honor, and richest adorn- 
ment. " Put a ring on his hand." 

I remark, in the first place, that when Christ receives 
a soul into His love. He puts upon him 

THE EING OF HIS ADOPTION. 

While in my church in Philadelphia, there came the 
representative of the Howard Mission of New York. Ho 
brought with him eight or ten children of the street that he 
had picked up, and he was trying to find for them Chris- 
tian homes, and as the little ones stood on the pulpit 
and sang, our hearts melted within us. 

At the close of the service a great=hearted wealthy 
man came up and said, 

" I'll take this little bright^eyed girl, and I'll adopt 



THE RING FOR THE RETURNING PRODIGAL 115 

her as one of my own children "; and he took her by the 
hand, lifted her into his carriage, and went away. 

The next day, while we were in the church gathering 
up garments for the poor of New York, this little child 
came back with a bundle under her arm, and she said, 

" There's my old dress. Perhaps some of the poor 
children would like to have it." 

She herself was in bright and beautiful array, and 
those who more immediately examined her said she had 
a ring on her hand. It was the ring of adoption. 

There are a great many persons who pride themselves 
on their ancestry, and they glory over the royal blood 
that pours through their arteries. In their line there 
was a lord, or a duke, or a prime minister, or a king. 
But when the Lord, our Father, puts upon us the ring 
of His adoption, we become children of the Ruler of all 
nations. " Behold what manner of love the Father hath 
bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of 
God." It matters not how poor our garments may be in 
this world, or how scant our bread, or how mean the hut 
we live in; if we have the ring of Christ's adoption 
upon our hand we are assured of eternal defences. 

Adopted! Why, then, we are brothers and sisters to 
all the good of earth and heaven. We have the family 
name, the family dress, the family keys, the family 
wardrobe. The father looks after us, robes us, defends 
us, blesses us. We have royal blood in our veins, and 
there are crowns in our line. If we are His children, 
then princes and princesses. It is only a question of 
time when we get our coronet. 



116 THE PRODIGAL 



Adopted! Then we have the family secrets. "The 
secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him." 

Adopted! Then we have the family inheritance, and 
in the day when our Father shall divide the riches of 
heaven, we shall take our share of the mansions and 
palaces and temples. 

Henceforth let us boast no more of an earthly ances- 
try. The insignia of eternal glory is our coat of atms. 
This ring of adoption puts upon us all honor and all 
privilege. Now we can take the words of Charles Wes- 
ley, that prince of hymn=makers, and sing: 

Come, let us join our friends above, 

Who have obtained the prize, 
And on the eagle wings of love 

To joy celestial rise. 

Let all the saints terrestrial sing 

With those to glory gone; 
For all the servants of our King, 

In heaven and earth are one. 

I have been told that when any of the members of 
any of the great secret societies of this country are in a 
distant city, and are in any kind of trouble, and are set 
upon by enemies, they have only to give a certain sig- 
nal, and the members of that organization will flock 
around for defence. And when any man belongs to 
this great Christian brotherhood, if he gets into trouble, 
into trial, into persecution, into temptation, he has only 
to show this ring of Christ's adoption, and all the armed 
cohorts of heaven will come to his rescue. 

Still further, when Christ takes a soul into His love 
He puts upon it 



THE RING FOR THE RETURNING PRODIGAL 117 
A MAEEIAGE^EING. 

Now, that is not a whim of mine. " I will betroth 
thee unto me forever; yea, I will betroth thee unto me 
in righteousness, and in judgment, and in loving kind- 
ness, and in mercies." (Hosea 2: 19.) 

At the wedding altar the bridegroom, puts a ring upon 
the hand of the bride, signifying love and faithfulness. 
Trouble may come upon the household, and the carpets 
may go, the pictures may go, the piano may go, every- 
thing else may go — the last thing that goes is the mar- 
riage=ring, for it is considered sacred. 

In the burial hour it is withdrawn from the hand and 
kept in a casket, and sometimes the box is opened on an 
anniversary day, and as you look at that ring you see 
under its arch a long procession of precious memories. 
Within the golden circle of that ring there is room for a 
thousand sweet recollections to revolve, and you think 
of the great contrast between the hour when, at the 
close of the "Wedding March," under the flashing 
lights and amid the aroma of orange blossoms, you set 
that ring on the round finger of the plump hand, and 
that hour when, at the close of the exclusive watching, 
when you knew that the soul had fled, you took from 
the hand, which gave back no responsive clasp, from 
that emaciated finger, the ring that she had worn so 
long and worn so well. 

On some anniversary day you take up that ring, and 
you repolish it until all the old lustre comes back, and 
you can see in it the flash of eyes that long ago ceased 
to weep. 

Oh! it is not an unmeaning thing when I tell you 



118 THE PRODIGAL 



that when Christ receives your soul into His keeping, 
He puts on it a marriage^ring. He endows you from that 
moment with all His wealth. You are one — Christ and 
the soul — one in sympathy, one in affection, one in hope. 
There is no power on earth or hell to effect a divorce- 
ment after Christ and the soul are united. Other kings 
have turned out their companions when they got weary 
of them, and sent them adrift from the palace gate. 
Ahasuerus banished Vashti ; Napoleon forsook Joseph- 
ine; but Christ is the husband that is true forever. 
Having loved you once. He loves you to the end. Did 
they not try to divorce Margaret, the Scotch girl, from 
Jesus? They said: 

" You must give up your religion." 
She said: " I can't give up my religion." 
And so they took her down to the beach of the sea, 
and they drove in a stake at low water mark, and they 
fastened her to it, expecting that as the tide came up 
her faith would fail. The tide began to rise, and came 
up higher and higher, and to the girdle, and to the lip, 
and in the last moment just as the waves were washing 
her soul into glory, she shouted the i^raises of Jesus. 

Oh, no, you cannot separate a soul from Christ! It is 
an everlasting marriage. Battle and storm and dark- 
ness cannot do it. Is it too much exultation for a man, 
who is but dust and ashes like myself, to cry out this 
moment: "I am persuaded that neither height, nor 
dei3th, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
nor things to come, nor any other creature shall sepa- 
rate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus 
my Lord "? Glory be to God that when Christ and the 



THE RING FOR THE RETURNING PRODIGAL 119 

soul are married they are bound by a chain — a golden 
chain — if I might say so — a chain with one link, and 
that one link the golden ring of God's everlasting love! 
I go a step further, and tell you that when Christ re- 
ceives a soul into His love He puts on him 

THE EING OF FESTIVITY. 

You know that it has been the custom in all ages to 
bestow rings on very happy occasions. There is noth- 
ing more appropriate for a birthday gift than a ring. 
You delight to bestow such a gift upon your children at 
such a time. It means joy, hilarity, festivity. 

Well, when this old man of the story wanted to tell 
how glad he was that his boy had got back, he expressed 
it in this way. Actually, before he ordered sandals to 
be put on his bare feet, before he ordered the fatted 
calf to be killed to appease the boy's hunger, he com- 
manded: 

"Put a ring on his hand." 

Oh, it is a merry time when Christ and the soul are 
united! What a splendid thing it is to feel that all is 
right between my God and myself! What a glorious 
thing it is to have God just take up all the sins of my 
life, and put them in one bundle, and then fling them 
into the depths of the sea, never to rise again, never to 
be talked of again! Pollution all gone. Darkness all 
illumined. God reconciled. The prodigal home. 
" Put a ring on his hand." 

Every day I find happy Christian people. I find 
some of them with no second coat, some of them in huts 
and tenement houses, not one earthly comfort afforded 
them; and yet they are as happy as happy can be. 



120 THE PRODIGAL 



They sing " Rock of Ages " as no other people in the 
world sing it. They never wore any jewelry in their 
life but one gold ring, and that was the ring of God's 
undying affection. Oh, how happy religion makes us! 
Did it make you gloomy and sad? Did you go with 
your head cast down? I do not think you got religion, 
my brother. That is not the effect of religion. True 
religion is a joy. " Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
and all her paths are peace." 

Religion lightens all our burdens. It smooths all our 
way. It interprets all our sorrows. It changes the jar 
of earthly discord for the peal of festal bells. In front 
of the flaming furnace of trial it sets the forge on which 
sceptres are hammered out. Would you not like this 
hour to come up from the swine^feeding and try this re- 
ligion? All the joys of heaven would come out and 
meet you, and God would cry from the throne: " Put a 
ring on his hand," 

You are not happy. There is no peace, and some- 
times you laugh when you feel a great deal more like 
crying. The world is a cheat. It first wears you down 
with its follies, then it kicks you out into darkness. It 
comes back from the massacre of a million souls to at- 
tem^Dt the destruction of your soul to=day. No peace 
out of God, but here is the fountain that can slake the 
thirst. Here is the harbor where you can drop safe 
anchorage. 

Would you not like, I ask you — not perfunctorily, but 
as one brother might talk to another — would you not like 
to have a i)illow of rest to put your head on? And would 
you not like, when you retire at night, to feel that all is 



4 



i 



THE RING FOR THE RETURNING PRODIGAL 121 

well, whether you wake up to=morrow morning at six 
o'clock, or sleep the sleep that knows no waking? Would 
you not like to exchange this awful uncertainty about the 
future for a glorious assurance of heaven? Accept of 
the Lord Jesus now, and all is well. If some peril should 
cross the street and dash your life out it would not hurt 
you. You would rise up immediately. You would stand 
in the celestial streets. You would be amid the great 
throng that forever worship and are forever happy. If 
this night some sudden disease should come upon you, 
it would not frighten you. If you knew you were go- 
ing, you could give a calm farewell to your beautiful 
home on earth, and know that you are going right into 
the companionship of those who have already got be- 
yond the toiling and the weeping. 

You feel on Saturday night different from the way 
you feel any other night of the week. You come home 
from the bank, or the store, or the office, and you say: 

" "Well, now my week's work is done, and to-morrow is 
Sunday." 

It is a pleasant thought. There is refreshment and re- 
construction in the very idea. Oh, how pleasant it will 
be if, when we get through the day of our life, and we 
go and lie down in our bed of dust, we can realize : 

" Well, now the work is all done, and to-morrow is 
Sunday — an everlasting Sunday." 

Oh, when, thou city of my God, 

Shall I thy courts ascend, 
Where congregations ne'er break up, 

And Sabbaths have no end? 

Some who are very near the eternal world will read 



122 THE PRODIGAL 



this. If you are Christians I bid you be of good cheer. 
Bear with you our congratulations to the bright city. 
Aged men, who will soon be gone, take with you our love 
for our kindred in the better land, and when you see 
them, tell them we are soon coming. Only a few more 
sermons to preach and hear. Only a few more heart- 
aches. Only a few more toils. Only a few more tears. 
And then — what an entrancing spectacle will open be- 
fore us! 

Beautiful heaven, where all is light, 
Beautiful angels, clothed in white, 
Beautiful strains that never tire, 
Beautiful harps through all the choir, 
There shall I join the chorus sweet. 
Worshiping at the Savior's feet. 

And so I approach you now with a general invitation, 
not picking out here and there a man, or here and there 
a woman, or here and there a child; but giving you an 
unlimited invitation, saying: 

"Come, for all things are now ready." 

We invite you to the warm heart of Christ, and the 
inclosure of the Christian church. I know a great many 
think that the chutch does not amount to much — that it 
is obsolete, that it did its work and is gone now, so far 
as all usefulness is concerned. It is the happiest place 
I have ever been in except my own home. 

I know there are some people who say they are Chris- 
tians who seem to get along without any help from others, 
and who culture solitary piety. They do not want any 
ordinances. I do not belong to that class. I cannot get 
along without them. There are so many things in this 
world that take my attention from God, and Christ, and 



THE RING FOR THE RETURNING PRODIGAL 123 

heaven, that I want all the. helps of all the symbols and 
of all the Christian associations; and I want around about 
me a solid phalanx of men who love God and keep His 
commandments. Reader, would you not like to enter 
into that association? Then by a simple, childlike faith, 
apply for admission into the visible church, and you will 
be received. Xo questions asked about your past history 
or present surroundings. Only one test — do you love 
Jesus? 

Some have been thinking on this subject year after 
year. They have found out that this world is a poor 
portion. They want to be Christians. They have come 
almost into the kingdom of God ; but there they stop, 
forgetful of the fact that to be almost saved is not to be 
saved at all. Oh, my brother, after having come so near 
to the door of mercy, if you turn back, you will never 
come at all ! After all you have heard of the goodness of 
God, if you turn away and die, it will not be because you 
did not have a good offer. 

God's spirit will not always strive 
With hardened self^destroying man; 

Ye who persist His love to grieve 
May never hear His voice again. 

May God Almighty this moment move upon your soul 
and bring you back from the husks of the wilderness to 
the Father's house, and set you at the banquet, and "put 
a ring on your hand." 



BEAUTIFUL SNOW. 



O, the snow, the beautiful snow! 
Filling the sky and the earth below; 
Over the housetops, over the street, 
Over the heads of the people you meet, 
Dancing, flirting, skipping along. 
Beautiful snow! it can do no wrong. 
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek. 
Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak — 
Beautiful snow from the heavens above, 
Pure as an angel, gentle as love! 



0, the snow, the beautiful snowl 

How the flakes gather, and laugh as they go 

Whirling about in their maddening fun. 

It plays in its glee with every one. 

Chasing, laughing, hurrying by, 

It lights on the face, and it sparkles the eye; 

And playful dogs with a bark and a bound 

Snap at the crystals that eddy around. 

The town is alive, and its heart is aglow 

To welcome the coming of beautiful snow. 



How wildly the crowd goes swaying along, 
Hailing each other with humor and song! 
How the gay sledb like meteors flash by, 
Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye! 
Ringing, swinging, dashing they go 
Over the crust of the beautiful snow — 
Snow 80 pure, when it falls from the sky, 
As to make one regret to see it lie 
124 



BEAUTIFUL SNOW. A POEM 125 

To be trampled and tracked by the thousand feet, 
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street. 

Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell — 
Fell like the snowflakes from heaven to hell; 
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street; 
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on, and beat; 
Pleading, cursing, dreading to die; 
Selling my soul to whoever would buy; 
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread; 
Hating the living, and fearing the dead — 
Merciful God! Have I fallen so low? 
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow. 



Once I was fair as the beautiful snow, 

With an eye like its crystal, and heart like its glow. 

Once I was loved for my innocent grace, 

Flattered and sought for the charms of the face. 

Father, mother, sister, all, 

God and myself I have lost by my fall! 

The veriest wretch that goes shivering by 

Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too niglv 

For all that is on or above me I know 

There's nothing as pure as the beautiful snow. 

How strange it should be that this beautiful snow 

Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go! 

How strange it would be, when night comes again, 

If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain! 

Fainting, freezing, dying alone, 

Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan 

To be heard in the streets of the crazy town, 

Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down; 

To be and to die in my terrible woe, 

With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow. 



Helpless and foul as the trampled snow, 
Sinner despair not! Christ stoopeth low 



126 



THE PRODIGAL 



To rescue the sonl that is lost in its sin, 

And raise it to life and enjoyment again. * 

Groaning, bleeding, dying for thee, 

The Crucified hung on the 'cursed tree. 

His accents of mercy fall soft on thine ear. 

Is there mercy for me? Will He heed my prayer? 

God, in the stream that for sinners did flow, 

Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow! 

— Author's name unknown. 



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